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Scanned from the collection of 

The Museum of Modern Art Library 

Coordinated by the 

Media History Digital Library 






Four Pages of Hilarious Star Caricatures by V 

--ncilA PALMS' 



II brand names concealed, a large Women's 
I imer 1 ur \ voted as follows: Against one leading 
brand, the \i Vt Tooth Paste with Luster- 

i o to one favorite. Against the next two, 

ii .1 favorite. Afi linsi a fourth, a very slight edge. 
The verdict of the men's consumer jui . ntiaJly 

the Munc uith the exce pti o n thai the fourth paste re- 

: the women's results slightly. The comments 
above are i 

New Listerine Tooth Paste with amazing 

Luster-Foam "Bubble Bath" cleanses teeth 

new, thrilling way . . . more penetrating . . . 

more thorough . . . millions choose it 

You simply can't imagine how clean your teeth can 
be . . . how brilliantly they gleam . . . until you have 
used the New Listerine Tooth Paste, energized by 

Luster-Foam detergent is an outstanding contri- 
bution to dental care . . . the energetic foe of decay. 
It is not a soap, yet lias far more penetrating power 
than soap. It is not a powder, yet has powder's 
effecth eness. 

A tooth paste especially created to thoroughly 
cleanse the countless tiny pits, cracks, and fissures 
on the teeth . . . the "blind spots" between the teeth 
and at the gum line so Frequently neglected in the 
past. Muse are the anas to which dull him clings, 
where germs breed, fermenting acids form, and 
where many authorities estimate between 75', o and 
i if all decay starts. 

Into some of these an as. ordinary dentifrices and 
even water seldom enter. Bui Luster-Foam enters 
them . . . especially created to do that very job. 

Tiny pits, cracks and fissures are the breeding spots of decay. 
A study of 12,753 persons showed that 82.3°o of all decay starts 
in the molars and bicuspids. The remaining 17.7% in all the 
other teeth. listerine Tooth Paste containing Luster-Foam was 
created t<> reach these decay breeding areas. 

That lively, aromatic Luster-Foam "bubble hath" 
(20,000 bubbles to the square inch) starts perform- 
ing a miracle the moment brush and saliva set it oft. 

Dull him is whisked away. Food accumulations 
come oft like magic. Dangerous decay acids are 
combated. Millions of decay germs are removed. 

^ on scarcely feel this going on — all you know is 
that your mouth feels wonderfully alive and fresh, 
and remains that way for hours afterward. 

Get the new Listerine Tooth Paste with Luster- 
Foam detergent, right now! It will bring you a 
new conception of health and beauty. At all drug 
counters, in two sizes: Regular 25^, and Big Double- 
Si ze containing more than '.> lb. of toothpaste for 
4U C — by all odds your best buy. 

Lambert Pharmacal Company, St. Louis, Mo. 



$\ supercharged with x 




„ wear, BettY v 
•■ furious Seal Dje Q y ack 

and sash, WockW p pQUch 

i - ede f b Tack ode 9loves. BeHY 

Soon* **■- _ 


JANUARY, 1939 

IVatch for a Merry -Goldwyn- Mayer 

I'm feeling merry already, because I've 
bt an Xmas gift that warms this old 
lingle heart. 

I's a studio-full of letters from you and 

i and you (thanks to each of you) tell- 

me you liked my personal column in 

t month's magazines and you want me 

| continue. Okay fans! 

• • • • 
.., here's real news! 
.temember my Christmas picture a few 
ars ago— Charles Dickens'" David Cop- 
rfield" (who could forget?) . . . 




l'll see another heart-warming Charles 
"kens story soon. M-G-M's "A 
[RISTMAS CAROL" comes at the 
fcday season, and its message of "peace 
J earth, good will to men" so sorely 
Ided in these times will strike you as 
Ither fine job by the producers of 
V s Town." - 

|i pre-Christmas gift, dancing. Joan 
/ford will show you that she's learned 
new steps as the dancing bride in 
E SHINING HOUR." Plenty of 
hers for Joan, among them Margaret 
Ivan, Robert Young, Melvyn Doug- 
|Fay Bainter. Quite a cast, folks, 
a picture, too! 

• * * * 
lertainly started the festive season 
IThe Al 1 - American rage now is* ' OUT 
Iment from your favorite screen 

Mickey Rooney, Lewis Stone 
jill the folks are fine, thank you! 

• • • • 
'1! remember December" is a good 

for M-G-M . . . and the New Year 
kff to a happy start as those gay 
Is of love songs, Jeanette MacDon- 
ld Nelson Eddy bring us their first 
In musical, "SWEETHEARTS" 
Technicolor, too! 

• * • • 
I said Christmas comes but once 

l'll get a holiday package on the screen 
leek of 1939 from etf 

anta Claus — 





T 4T 

°r MOTION ^ 








On the Cover — Hedy Lamarr, Natural Color Photograph by George Hurrell 

Shirley Temple's Last Letter to Santa Drawing by Vincentini 9 

This is probably the last Christmas she will write to him 
Film Folk I Have Known Eleanor Roosevelt 10 

A distinguished lady talks about picture people she has met 
Romantic Recluse Gladys Hall 12 

The private life of a public hero — Ronald Colman 
This Year's Love Market — Its Highs and Lows .... Gretta Palmer 14 

A graphic record of Hollywood romances, marriages and divorces 
Mama Is in the Movies Now Louis Sobol 16 

A famous columnist discovers a real Cinderella — Ellen Drew 

It Pays to Be Tough Ida Zeitlin 17 

HIGHLIGHTS Introducing John Garfield — a bright new luminary 

t ii ...... Mother Goose Goes Hollywood Walt Disney 18 

OF THIS ISSUE Four pages of delightful caricatures from Walt Disney's new film 

Hollywood's Unmarried Husbands and Wives .... Kirtley Baskette 22 

Domesticity takes on a unique form in this unconventional fold 
Civilizing Sabu of India Katharine Roberts 24 

The story of a jungle child in a modem world 
Photop'ay Fashions Gwenn Walters 49 

Carole Lombard opens the pages of our 1939 fashion section 
Whar Hollywood Is Thinking Marian Rhea 59 

The second in a series of revealing answers to pertinent questions 
Corrigan Lands in Hollywood Edward Doherty 60 

"Wrong-Way" Doug discovers all roads lead to filmtown 
Lindbergh's Movie Contract Major Thomas G. Lanphier 61 

A fascinating untold story of America's great hero 
. The Case of the Hollywood Scandal Erie Stanley Gardner 62 

A thrilling mystery reaches a climax of revenge and romance 

The Camera Speaks: — 

"Who's Behind the Glasses? 26 

The "eyes" have it in Photoplay's opt ical guessing game 

Gay Blades 30 

Young Hollywood has fun at the Ice Follies 

Favorite Stories of Famous Children Dixie Willson 32 

^4 E W S A bouquet from a famous author's new book 

They Haven't Changed a Bit 36 

VIEWS AND Here's proof in these rare old pictures of a few modern stars 

Khyber Pass, California 38 

REVIEWS Kipling's "Gunga Din' comes to the screen 

Close Ups and Long Shots Ruth Waterbury 4 

Brief Reviews of Current Pictures 6 

Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 41 

The Shadow Stage 44 

We Cover the Studios Jack Wade 46 

Choose the Best Picture of 1938 64 

PHOTOPLAY'S Own Beauty Shop Carolyn Van Wyck 66 

Boos and Bouquets 68 

How Well Do You Know Your Hollywood? 69 

Movies in Your Home • • • • • • • • 70 

A new department for amateur movie-camera enthusiasts 

Close Ups of Hollywood Designers 72 

■ Complete Casts of Pictures Reviewed in This Issue 87 

VOL LIU., No. 1, JANUARY, 1939 

Published Monthly by Macfadden Publications, Inc., 333 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 111. • Bernan Macfadden, President • Irene T. Kennedy, 
Treasurer • Wesley F. Pape, Secretary • General Offices, 205 East 42nd St., New York, N. Y. • Editorial and Advertising Offices, Chanin 
Building, 122 East 42nd St., New York, N. Y., Curtis Harrison, Advertising Manager • Charles H. Shattuck, Manager, Chicago Office • London Agents, 
Macfadden Magazines, Ltd., 30 Bouverie St., London, E. C. 4 • Trade Distributors Atlas Publishing Company, 18 Bride Lane, London, E. C. 4 • Yearly 
Subscription: $2.50 in the United Slates, $3.00 in U. S. Possessions and Territories, also Cuba, Mexico, Haiti, Dominican Republic, Spain and Pos- 
sessions, and Central and South American countries excepting British Honduras, British, Dutch and French Guiana. $2 50 in Canada and Newfound- 
land. All other countries $5 00. Remittances should be made by check, or postal or express money order • CAUTION — Do not subscribe through 
persons unknown to you • While manuscripts, photographs and drawings are submitted al the owners' risk, every effort will be made by this organ- 
ization to return those found unavailable if accompanied by sufficient 1st class postage, and explicit name and address. But we will not be responsible 
for any losses of such matter. Entered as second-class matter April 24, 1912, at the post office at Chicago, 111., under the act of March 3, 1879. 
Copyright, 1938, by Macfadden Publications, Inc. Registro Nacional de la Propiedad IntelectuaL 









FIVE OF A KIND— Zfth Cwtary-Fn 



HARD TO GET-Warngn ...... 

DC STONY-MBi Cesrtury-Fii . . 






STORM, THE-IMvwmI . . 



YOUNO IN HEART, THE-S*nkk-UnRrt Arttats 45 


Com&mii Thin Mm ir Shopping 
1> a i il v it n it S ii r i> lour T i m v . 
M n n r u and IH # p o tt i I i o n 



it Itself with Jack Oakie 
n the humor) playing 

Ruth Donnelly and Fritz 
1 ignly amusing. (Oct.) 

ALWAYS IN TROUBLE-20th Century-Fox 

n deeper 

rich overnight and can't 

n .m island with smugglers, 

nd brinns her family 

back to earth 


of an itinerant 
• n more 
■ ic widow whose newspapei Bun 


ARMY GIRL-Repubhc 

Lhc title of I. 

in khaki at a 
r, Neil Hamilton ami 
nel) H. B. Warner 


• * to this 'I 

til laugh 

■ and do 


■ twenty 
1 1 mmediately on. 


wma plug I • on, Holly* ppy and 


by of a 
dumh ■ huild U|> r. The 


ling of ■ model rommir 
the triumph ol , m Providence and 

human natur , brilliant interpretation of 

Falher Flanagan and Mickey Rooney runs a close second as the 
incorrigible Whtiey. Hollywood should be proud of such a picture. 


It helps tremendously to have five-year-old figure-skater Irene 
Dare make her screen debut in this latest of Bobby Breen- 
piclures. Bobby, at this point a Mennonite, runs away from the 
colony, join< an ice-skating troupe. Dolores Costello is nicely sac- 
charine aa B 


Hetty Grable, Eleanore Whitney and Bill Henry, perennial col- 
lege seniors, scamper around, but the plot centers about Hank 
Luisetti. basketball st.,r. who proves that athletics belong in any 
college curriculum. 


The team of Rogers and Astaire is back, as light on their collective 

ver Fred ie llyst, Ginger is his patient. Over 

all their antics, and the best dance routines the couple has ever 

invented, -o.,r (he lovely lilting melodies of Irving Berlin's latest 

wmg- Guaranteed to put you in a gay mood. (.Nov.) 


A -wilt minor comedy based on the ambulance-chasing racket, 
rdid plot but the situations are so funny you'll laugh 
anyway. Dennis Keef e is the shyster, Lewis Stone his drunken 
stooge doctor; John Qualen, Nat Pendleton and Ann Morris sup- 


Well. kuls. i : Taylor comes through — a champion — 

in this lu-ty tale of the prize ring which surrounds him with crooked 

managers, a drunken nk Morgan), who sells him down 

r, and Maureen o Sullivan for whi finally gives up 

■ r. Darned line. (Oct.) 


There- a lot of fuss made when Man. in Marsh turns up in Paris 

the image of the "ideal girl'' painted by Ramon Novarro. 

The picture is sold by mi-take ami everyone light- to get it back. 

Margaret Tali N'ovarro is as sincere 

Don't break your neck. 

• DOWN ON THE FARM-20th Century-Fox 

Having attained the run. \ rating, the Jonrs Family 

continue the attempt to catch Am 

admirably. The family's divertissements on Aunt Ida's farm are 
enlivened by a cornhualdng, an election and various country 

that should amuse voii no end. i 1 usual.) 

• DRUMS-Korda-United Artists 

An smilingly dramatic Story of a Briti-n regiment .,n the North- 

the utile Indian rajah whose friendship 

foi England. Raymond 

d fester, Valerie Hobson are all 

nal. (Oct.) 


In Fai ting, dramatic story of the four l.rmp 

ii Ii for roDD born John Garfield, 

whose i Aim marries I 

high -i».t of the year; 1 e finest work 

Srey Lynn, who I emph Itcally a "discovery." 
Important, (i)a.) 

Roland Young and Connie Bennett, 
mad zanies of "Topper" -fame, find 
that etherealism and jail don't jibe in 
Roach's sequel, "Topper Takes a Trip" 

• FOUR'S A CROWD-Warners 

Errol Flynn emerges from his romantic cocoon to turn into a fine 
comedian (hoo-ray) a? a press-relations counsel, whitewashing 
! Russell is a top-flight newspaper woman on 
Pat Knowles' paper; Olivia dc Havilland is a RiRKly daughter of 
Wall Streeter Walter Connolly. You'll find out who loves whom 
and. in the interim, you'll find crack entertainment. {Oct.) 


This college film has an unusual twist — no football game! ln- 
t deals with a student group who institute "flunk in- 
surance,'' put on a show in order to pay off. Dixie Dunbar i- the 
chorus-girl co-ed. William Lundigan. the freshie leader. Ernest 
Truex is good as the professor who goes jitterbug. (.Nov.) 


Defini r aimed at the weaker half of a double bill, this rises 

no higher than its aims. The story deals with a Hollywood stooge, 

Krank Albertson. who becomes embroiled in a murder, escape- with 

i his love, Eleanor Lynn. Not much here to cheer over. (Nov.) 


The real Garden is the famous Cocoanut Grove at the Ambas- 
sador Hotel in Los Angeles, but the resemblance between that 
-upper room and this picture is slight. It involves Pat O'Brien as the 
hard-boiled manager and John Payne as the bandleader whose love 
for Margaret I pilates many a battle. Good comedy, 

goiid in Oct.) 

GATEWAY-20th Century-Fox 

Starting out as a sincere portrait of various types of immigrants 
who land in New York, thi ked into a shipboard hash 

someplace. Arleen Whelm is the Uriah lass traveling to America, 
Don Aniiche is ,t war correspondent, Binnie Barnes, a grass widow 
and Gregory Ratoff, a phoney Russian prince. They do get to Ellis 
Island, though! «)</.) 


The lives of two girls. Jane Bryan and Sheila Bromley, run a 

ight road, the other the primrose 

path, yet both land in prison. Attorney Ronald Reagan finally 

unravel- the web in which Ins sweetie becomes entangled. Human 



A disappointingly heavy I girl (Anne Shirley) 

in a rich snobbish school. Nan (»r Noah Beery, Jr., 

the sympathetic plumber, Kenneth Howell the poet. Something 
slipped here. 

• GIVE ME A SAILOR-Paramount 

Martha Rave - first film as a glamour girl turns out to be very 

hilarious ilu- funnil ng Martha's efforts with a mud 

She I- not getting away from -Lipstick very fast. She loves 

Jack Whiting, but Jack loves Betty Grable, and Bob Hope loves 

Martha. They all gel so mi I 

{( onlimud on page 88) 



From the rocky cliffs of Newfoundland to the western slopes of the Yukon 
— sweeps a wild-hearted empire of rushing rivers, plains and tow- 
ering peaks. Guarding this vast dominion — a handful of red- 
coated heroes maintain their tradition, "Get 
your man!". . . Now, for the first time, the 
epic story of the Royal Canadian Mounted is 
told in living colors . . . told in the beat of 
love-torn hearts and glory of brave rash deeds! 



With a big cast 
Directed by LEWIS SEILER 
Screen Play by Lee Katz and 
Vincent Sherman • Based on 
a Novel by William Byron 
Mowery • A First Nat'l Picture 

JAN UARY, 1939 


EVENING, 1939 

a beguiling mode, 
rich in silver 

Evening, 1939, sweeps in with 

trailing velvet . . . head regally 

high . . . hair sleekly "upped" 

. . . shoulders and arms 

gleaming with silver 

. . . Federal Silver Fox. Federal is 

the perfect complement 

to the new after- dark mode. 

Beautifully frosted and thickly, 

silkily furred, it dramatizes 

your costumes. 

And the name, stamped on 

the leather side of the pelt, 

insures lasting loveliness. 

Insist upon Federal Fox; it is 

featured by smart stores, 






Every year I write you a letter and on 
every Christmas you've always remem- 
bered what I ask for. I know it's not nice to ask 
for things but I've decided that telling you what 
I want might save you a lot of trouble. So this 
is a sort of shopping list and if you have time to 
get around to me after taking care of all the 
other little girls I'll be very glad if you take this 
list along. 

But there is something I have to explain first. 
It is about last year. I didn't mean to play a 
trick on you. I just wanted to see you, Santa. 
Just once. That's why I put the bell on the toe 
of my stocking and hung it by my bed (instead 
of the usual place on the mantel) so I'd be sure 
to hear it. But I didn't. You filled it without 
ever making a sound— with those candy nuts I 
love so, and little glass figures for my collectchun 
and the small silver tea set. Remember? 

And maybe I'd better explain about that 
stocking too. Mine isn't very big. Sonny and 


. TEMPLE sj\- that Shir!' 




in her belief 

in >anta. 


is is probablv 

the last Christma.- 



write to him am] we are proud to 


her 1 

^tter. Ue sincerely hope he'll bring 



thing she a.-k.- 

for. . . . 



Jack (they are my brothers) only wear socks 
but they hold more. So I told a friend of moth- 
er's and she made me that glazed chintz stock- 
ing two feet long. I hope you don't mind be- 
cause I'd like to use it again this year. 

WHAT I want more than anything. Santa (even 
more than a double-folding sleeping bag and one 
of those jiffy tents) is another Jimmy. O I 
know it will be hard to find and you will have 
to look all over because Jimmy was the dearest 

baby doll in the world. He went to Honolulu 
with me and he was so good. But on th- 
we took last summer I left my Jimmy sitting in 
the car right in the sun when we went to the 
Grand Canyon. I never should a done that 
because my dad locked the car and it got pretty 
hot. When we came back Jimmy's cheeks were 
cracked The paint had run onto his little 
rompers and when I picked him up his lashes 
fell out. I just could nut help crying. My dad 
sent him back to the doll hospital in H liywood 
but they couldn't fix him. When I got h 
buried my Jimmy in our backyard and 
Lou Isleib (she is my best friend and stand-in) 
(Continued on page 86) 

Sec. Claude A. Swanson 

Louis d. Mayer 

Elliott Roosevelt Marie Dressier 

*+ + 




America's most distinguished lady 
brings you an intimate glimpse 
of the picture people she has met 

SOMEWHERE in a paper not long ago I saw 
the following question: Arc actors and 
actresses the same in real life as they are 
on the stage?" It set me thinking, for, in the 
course of my life, I have known a good many 
artists of one kind or another — actors, actresses, 
musicians, dancers, painters, writers — all akin 
in the love they have for their art. 

They spend their lives trying to give the world 
pleasure through this art. As far as actors and 
actresses are concerned, whether on the stage or 
in the movies, I doubt if any of them would like 
us tc, think that they were the same on the stage 
as off. Success, in their profession, requires that 

they create for us the illusion that they really 
are the characters which they portray and that 
those characters are alive and playing a part in 
real life for the time that we follow them on the 

Those whom I have known off the stage, how- 
ever, frequently carry into their real lives some- 
thing that is reminiscent of their stage tech- 
nique. Others are so entirely different that you 
can hardly see any resemblance to the person 
you saw in such and such a part last winter, or 
in some picture last night. 

The first great actress I ever met was Eleonora 
Duse. While the others talked, I stood shyly 
and devoured her with my eyes. She was the 
most beautiful and fascinating-looking creature 
. . . but I must stop talking about the past and 
tell you a little about some of my acquaintances 
in the movies who can be called contemporaries. 

JEAN DIXON, of course, is a friend of some 
years standing, a charming, cultured woman 
who speaks French like a native, is a great 
reader and who has had the great advantage 
as a youngster of working for a while with 
Sarah Bernhardt. These memories she cher- 
ishes, as I cherish having seen the same great 
actress playing in "L'Aiglon" when I was in 
Paris as a schoolgirl. 

Three years ago, I began to meet some of the 
very young Hollywood stars who were kind 
enough to come to Washington to appear at the 

various Birthday Balls given on the night of my 
husband's birthday. 

The first year, Ginger Rogers stands out as a 
charming personality; the next year there were 
more and I saw them at lunch. They were Mr. 
Robert Taylor, Miss Marsha Hunt, Miss Maria 
Gambarelli, Miss Mitzi Green, Mr. Frederick 
Jagel and Miss Jean Harlow. 

First these guests were taken to greet my 
husband in his study; then we ate in the state 
dining room. I confess I asked them, with some 
trepidation, if they would like to see more of 
the White House, wondering how much they 
would care for historic interests. Jean Harlow 
and Robert Taylor seemed to be considered first 
place by the others, but they all expressed a 
keen desire to see all there was to be seen. 

We went through the White House from gar- 
ret to cellar and over to the executive offices as 
well. The colored staff was agog with excite- 
ment and, on the third floor, Robert Taylor was 
held up and begged for his autograph, which he 
very generously gave. This only happened to 
him, however, because he lagged behind and I 
was not there to protect him. 

I THINK I must also tell you that Marie Dress- 
ier, when she spent a night with us, was told by 
her maid how great was the interest of the staff 
below stairs in her visit. 

Before she started out with the President and 
me in the morning to help unveil a monument, 


Admiral T. J. Senn 

Mayor Frank Shaw 

Two former White House visitors who 
honored Secretary of the Navy Claude 
A. Swanson at an M-G-M luncheon are 
gone — Will Rogers and Marie Dressier 

she spent an hour in the kitchen, greeting 
everybody and signing autographs for them 
with that friendly manner no one else ever quite 
has been able to imitate. 

Marie Dressier is gone and so is little Jean 
Harlow, but I will never forget the letters both 
of them wrote me, so filled were they with ap- 
preciation of what the White House means to 
American citizens. Perhaps an actress has to be 
a little more sensitive to atmosphere than the 
average person, but true it is that these two 
expressed it as few of our guests have done. 

Looking at little Mitzi Green across the table, 
it was hard to realize that she was only sixteen 
and on her way to musical-comedy success in 
New York. One little incident I shall always 
remember. As we came into my husband's of- 
fice, one of the girls said: "I wish we had told 
the President how glad we are to be here. Let's 
sit in his chair and leave him a message." 

They wrote the message and one by one all of 
them, girls and boys alike, sat in his chair and 
signed it. 

I HIS past January, another group was with us 
and this time most of my children were at home, 
so they had plenty of young people to entertain 
them. At lunch with me were Miss Patricia 
Bowman, Mr. Joe E. Brown, Miss Louise Fa- 
zenda, Miss Maria Gambarelli, Miss Janet Gay- 
nor, Miss Ann Gillis (the ten-year-old star), 
Mr. Glen Gray, Mr. Richmond B. Keech, Mr. 
Tommy Kelly (aged twelve), Mr. Anthony Lab- 
riola, Mr. and Mrs. Fredric March, Mr. Ken 
Murray and Miss Eleanor Powell. 

Pretty Eleanor Powell made two 
of my daughters-in-law extremely 
jealous, or so they pretended, and 
I noticed that my boys were ex- 
tremely anxious to act as guides 
through the White House. They 
usually hang back when any such 
suggestion is made. 

They all returned, after their 
tour through the House, to my sit- 
ting room, Franklin, Junior, re- 
marking, '"We think perhaps you 
(Continued on page 83) 

Among those stars who lunched 
at the White House with Mrs. 
Roosevelt before the Presi- 
dent's Birthday Ball last year 
were (back row) Joe E. Brown, 
Eleanor Powell, Fredric March, 
Ray Bolger; (front row) Ann 
Gillis, Tommy Kelly, Maria 
Gambarelli and Janet Gaynor 

Shirley Temple won the heart of 
Mrs. Roosevelt, but the test came 
when she met Sistie and Buzzie 

Photoplay turns back the Holly- 
wood calendar to bring you the 
marital mergers and tangles, the 
Blessed and not-so-Blessed Events 
in a bulletin that's town talk 


September, 1937: Saw the birth of a new Photo- 
play The following months have brought rec- 
ord-breaking events. So the editors mark the 
close of its first fiscal year with these hilariously 
vital statistics. Romance opened strong, with 
marriage quotations giving the market a bullish 
trend. Announcement of the marriage of Mir- 
iam Hopkins to Director Anatole Litvak, early 
in the month, marked the beginning of the broad 
upswing. Cupid Common soared when Alice 
Faye and Tony Martin were wed. Other issues 
responded: Luise Rainer, in a statement, as- 
sailed bears who sold short her marriage to 
Clifford Odets, the playwright. The Tyrone 
Power-Loretta Young interests were reported 
firm, although a nervous tone prevailed over the 
Tyrone Power-Sonja Henie collaboration. 
Stork rallied with the new Gary Cooper- 
Veronica Balfe issue. 

October: Marriage held firm, in spite of bearish 
interest in the Clark Gable menage, with ru- 
mored participation by Carole Lombard. Hearts 
advanced when Francis Lederer wed Margo, 
showing strong foreign interests in the Domestic 
Hearts' market. 

Rumors of a rise in Garbo-Stokowski, for- 
merly unlisted, were denied by the company in- 

The Virginia Bruce-David Niven romance 
sagged. Conflicting rumors on the Robert Tay- 
lor-Barbara Stanwyck amalgamation confused 

November: Romances soared, with a firm under- 
tone of wedding bells. The market for the 
month closed strong. Jackie Coogan's marriage 
to Betty Grable, Betty Furness' to orchestra 
leader Johnny Green and Alan Curtis' to Pris- 
cilla Lawson were pivotal points in the latter 
half of the session. 

Public participation was marked. Traders 
and usually authoritative sources rumored new 
listings and the gossip tape lagged behind 
events. The new Tyrone Power consolidation 
mentioned Janet Gaynor. The Ginger Rogers- 
Playwright Robert Riskin deal attracted atten- 
tion. Carole Lombard and Clark Gable were 
bracketed for a sharp rally. Robert Taylor's 
European interests included Barbara Stanwyck, 
according to London and domestic tipsters. 

December: Matrimonial shares reached year's 
high when Virginia Bruce and Director J. Wal- 
ter Ruben brought out a new and eagerly re- 
ed debenture. The Hearts' Ex- 
change reflected sentiment. 

Continued upswing raised Romance averages 
to new highs on the year's movement. Early in 
the month several matrimonial issues were re- 
tired: Leopold Slokowski changed his listing 
and tape symbol from Husband to Divorce. 



Gloria Holden released her holdings in Harold 
Winston. There was profit-taking in Stork Pre- 
ferred by the firm of Henry Fonda and Wife. 

Garbo denied plans for a Stokowski merger. 
Well-informed observers reflected coldness 
towards Lupe Velez-Weissmuller shares. Nerv- 
ousness was expressed by the tape on the Clark 
Gable -Lombard company shares. 

A broadly bullish tone prevailed, with Cary 
Grant-Phyllis Brooks and Loretta Young-Joe 
Mankiewicz moving briskly. 

January, 1938: The New Year's Marriage Market 
opened sluggish, with little support. The Stan 
Laurel wedding on the opening day was bullish, 
but general nervousness prevailed. Volatile 
issues, such as Robert Taylor-Barbara Stan- 
wyck, remained unchanged. The Lili Damita- 
Errol Flynn romance encountered resistance. 

The Stork Market showed an improved tech- 
nical position. Stork Preferred announced four 
new listings when sons were born to Allan 
Jones, Bela Lugosi, Arline Judge and Bing 
Crosby. A daughter born to Claude Rains made 
this the outstanding month for stockholders in 
the Baby Commodity Market. 

February: The Hearts' Exchange opened with 
little volume and scant outside participation. 
Traders were inclined to be bearish and Ro- 
mance moved sluggishly. Certain observers 
profited on the downside with the announce- 
ment of Fay Wray's separation from the writer, 
John Monk Saunders, and Walter Wanger's di- 
vorce from Justine Johnstone. 

Valentine Common sagged sharply, in the 
dullest session of the year. News of Stokowski's 
sailing to join Garbo brought only a faint re- 

March: The month opened with a bulge in 
Love, but Matrimony attracted few bidders. 
The Kay Francis engagement to Baron Eric 
Barnekow brought some public participation. 
Babies were bullish, with Bob Burns' new son 
attracting interest. 

The Stokowski-Garbo issue moved sidewise, 
with conflicting rumors arousing uneasiness 
among gossip-brokers. The Tyrone Power- 
Janet Gaynor bond remained firm. Hands- 
Holding received some support from the in- 
creased activities of the A. C. Blumenthal and 
June Lang interests. 



Its Highs and Lows 

April: Romance continued to lag, with many 
shares striking the low for the year on the 
Hearts' Exchange. Gossip-brokers were reluc- 
tant to take a position and the specialists' book 
showed few offerings. The tape reported bear- 
ish developments in Marriage Preferred when 
Herbert Marshall, handsome star, was sued by 
Eddy Brandt for alienating the affections of Mrs. 
Brandt (Lee Russell). 

Eternal Triangle responded with a brief flurry 
of interest, but the Love market remained dis- 
appointingly stagnant for the session as a whole. 

Infant Commodities attracted interest with 
the birth of a daughter to Doris Warner and 
M-G-M producer Mervyn LeRoy. 

May: The Hearts' Exchange continued its re- 
cent listless tone, with few offerings. Shorts 
were vindicated when Luise Rainer and play- 
wright Clifford Odets announced their separa- 
tion early in the session. 

Hearts advanced on a narrow front with the 
rumor of a rise in Melting Glances, Inc., spon- 
sored by the strong Joan Fontaine and Conrad 
Nagel interests. 

Slight gains were reported at the Fox lot, with 

Sonja Henie and Richard Greene said to be par- 
ticipating in Beating Hearts Preferred. Usually 
reliable sources did not authenticate the rumor 
that large interests were watching this issue. 

June: Hearts advanced with a sharp rise and 
shorts scurrying to cover their positions. Love 
encountered little resistance in the almost per- 
pendicular return. 

All matrimonial issues shared in the most 
rapid upturn in months. 

Leaders in the Matrimonial advance were 
Lily Pons-Andre Kostelanetz Nuptials, Frances 
Langford-Jon Hall Elopement, Inc., Gloria Dick- 
son-Perc Westmore Knot, Cecilia Parker-Dick 
Baldwin Wedding- Bells, Virginia Walker-Wil- 
liam Hawks Bridal Shares and Russell Gleason- 
Cynthia Hobart Honeymooner. 

The strength of the movement was reflected 
among the Rumors, where Richard Greene was 
claimed on behalf of three important sharehold- 
ers: Arleen Whelan, Loretta Young, Sonja 

Bidding for the favors of the young British 
star sent his stock soaring to remarkable new 
highs for the year. 

July: The Hearts' Exchange held its gains this 
month, in spite of a rapid turnover as reflected 
in the Franchot Tone and Richard Arlen sep- 
aration reports. The latter was unexpected 
and caused gloom among Heart Throb dealers. 

A general optimistic tone, however, prevailed. 
Trading in Matrimonial shares was brisk, with 
the Claire Trevor-Clark Andrews marriage 
leading the movement. The rise was reflected 
in the Lee Tracy wedding. Lita Grey Chaplin's 
recovery was marked, with announcement of 
her participation in Matrimony, Preferred. The 
Mary Lou Lender-Delmer Daves nuptials at- 
tracted the attention of traders and insiders 
considered the marriage of Carole Lombard's 
secretary, "Fieldsie," to Director Walter Lang 

Foreign holdings were depressed by reiterated 
attention to the affairs of Sigrid Gurie, hailed as 
deriving from Norway but actually originating 
in Brooklyn. Her divorce from Thomas W. 
Stewart and the Zita Johann-John McCormick 
split caused Foreign Hearts to lag, but they re- 
covered during the session. 

Romances shared in the month's recovery, 
along with Matrimonial shares, on a broad front. 
Hepburn stock broke through the old high, with 
rumored association with Howard Hughes. The 
Michael Whalen-Ilona Massey participation 
caused a flurry and much out-of-town interest 
was reflected by the rise in Romances, based 
on the Simone Simon-Gene Markey rumor. The 
Loretta Young status continued to interest Ex- 
change heads: her adoption of the George Brent 
directorate was said, though not authenticated, 
to be distressing to the Tyrone Power interests. 

August: The market held its gains, in spite of 
considerable speculation on the downside. 
Bears' raids were reflected in the precipitate de- 
cline of the Jack Oakies' Matrimonial listing. 
The suspension of Velez-Weissmuller Maritals 
had been predicted by all the insiders and caught 
few gossip-traders short. Foreign shares were 
easier, with Michael Brooke (the Earl of War- 
wick) splitting, two for one, with his former 
Countess. Other declines were shown in the 
Ann Sheridan-Edward Norris marital status: 
the Vera Steadman-Martin Padway listing 
dropped the symbol Mrs. on the tape. 

The Blue Chips, however, firmed after their 
recent sharp rise and, in some cases, continued 
their advance. Marriages rebounded when 
Humphrey Bogart, twice divorced, and Mayo 
Methot, once divorced, were merged in a new 
corporation. The Sylvia Sidney-Luther Adler 
amalgamation sent Marriage shares to a month's 
high and caught many oldtimers unprepared. 
Marital Tangles reflected the rumor that Dor- 
othy Lamour, wife of Herbie Kay, seemed some- 
what interested in a new merger with Randy 
Scott. At least, the two were seen here and 
there at the different dine and dance spots. 

Pivotal stars showed revived interest. The 
Ronald Colman-Benita Hume stock soared on 
the rumor that consolidation of their interests 
had already been quietly arranged. The Janet 
Gaynor-Adrian situation was regarded as very 
bullish by experts downtown. Incorporation 
papers were said to have been drawn up be- 
tween Arleen Whelan and Richard Greene, 
whose stock had been one of the most actively 
traded on the board in recent months. Hints 
that he had been managed by a pool were dis- 
counted by authoritative sources on the Ex- 

The rise in Hearts and Marriages was reflected 
(Continued on page 75) 



MISS TERRY RAY sat in the frantically 
fluttered cubicle I call my office and 
blurted out, "Oh, yes. I'm married. 
Why, heavens, I've got a little boy — Skipper. 
He's three-and-a-half " 

The mild-mannered young gentleman who had 
accompanied Miss Ray to the office blanched. 
He thrust out a hand as if in shuddery disap- 
1 "T-t-tcll him." he spluttered, "how you 
are really a Twentieth-Century Cinderella 
and — " 

"Oh," murmured the girl. "I'm sorry. I 
shouldn't have said that about Skipper — should 
I? May I have a cigarette, please?" 

But she didn't sound too sorry except, per- 
haps, for the ling publicity man who 
looked woefully forlorn and let down at the 
awfulness of the revelation. 

It was no hardship talking to and looking at 
the slim, pulchritudinous young matron who no 
longer is Terry Ray but listed on the Paramount 
pay roll as Ellen Drew. Since her nice press 
notices, earned after the critics surveyed her in 

Ellen justified the faith of 
discerning fans by her per- 
formance in "If I Were King" 

"If I Were King," Ellen has become a Personal- 
ity and the studio emirs are currently polishing 
up that precious wand, one wave of which trans- 
forms talented little girls into stars, with all the 
billing and salary concomitants, option pickups 
and exploitation flurries that keep a cinema 
notable in allegedly high spirits — and amply 
filled purse. 

Personally, I think this Cinderella business is 
overdone. Every little girl who once went to 
high school and whose father was not a banker or 
senator is a Cinderella girl as soon as she lures 
a stage or screen contract and I, for one, am 
pretty bored with the description — and don't be- 
lieve it anyway. 

I wouldn't call Ellen Drew a Cinderella-girl. 
In fact, I won't. She is a trim-bodied, clear- 
eyed, self-reliant young woman with a keen 
tality who is beginning to cash in on her 
assets. Neither her father nor her mother was 
ever connected with the stage nor was either 
abnormally interested in what went on behind 
the footlights. Nor, for that matter, was Ellen 
until someone in the Parker High School in 
Chicago thought the little girl with the green- 
blue eyes and the chestnut brown hair and the 
rather mellow voice was just the sort of girl 

A famous columnist, who never be- 

lieved in Cinderella stories, met 

Ellen Drew, whom stardom's magic 

wand has just touched. Now h^ 

knows there's one real Cinderella 

who ought to show her school spirit by appear- 
ing in the school plays. 

Ellen Drew, who was Terry Ray, was born 
in Kansas City, November 23, 1915, which proves 
to the mathematically inclined that she is twen- 
ty-three years old. The family moved to Chi- 
cago when Ellen was of high-school age. Two 
years later, her education was brought to an 
abrupt curtain when her father and mother 
parted and the girl decided she ought to go to 

She told the employment man at Marshall 
Field's department store that she was eighteen, 
which she wasn't because she was only sixteen; 
but he believed her and every week thereafter 
she received a pay envelope with fourteen dol- 
lars in it. 

Six months later she moved over to Grant's 
5-and-10 where she sold jewelry and baby 
clothes and earned as high as eighteen dollars 
a week. Occasionally, she went to a movie, but 
she did not swoon over the current leading men 
or develop a hunger to dress and look like the 
prevailing feminine stars. As a matter of fact, 
she admits if you asked her quickly who was 
her favorite, she would have to answer almost 
as quickly, "I can't remember." 

Friends were heading toward Hollywood by 
automobile and Ellen was invited to go along. 
She had lost her job at Grant's during an effi- 
ciency curtailment and work was scarce in Chi- 
cago. There was a tentative promise of a job 
in Hollywood. So she went — -and the promise 
was fulfilled. Ellen Drew, pretty and ambitious, 
became a salesgirl in Brown's Confectionery on 
Hollywood Boulevard, not a pebble's throw from 
Grauman's Theater. Salary, twenty dollars 

The girl became a bit more movie star and 
(Continued on page 70) 



A T five o'clock on the day "Four Daughters" 
/ \ was previewed in Hollywood, a young 
/™\ man slipped into the theater. He was 
short and black-browed, blunt features lighted 
by a pair of fine dark eyes. He found himself 
an obscure seat in the gallery, sat through two 
features once and one newsreel twice. 

At seven or thereabouts he produced a sand- 
wich from his pocket and munched it, the faint 
crackle of waxed paper drawing scowls from his 
neighbors. You might have gathered that a cer- 
tain surreptitious air about him arose from the 
knowledge that all along he'd planned to eat a 
sandwich where none should be eaten. You'd 
have been wrong. He was simply intent on 
hiding out in the crowd. 

At five, few would have recognized him. At 
ten forty-five — he sat slouched in the darkness 
for half an hour after the preview was over — it 
was a different story. A star had been born. 
Or, since Mr. Garfield frowns on the word star, 
a luminary. For a change, movieland was cheer- 
ing a young man who could never have posed for 
a collar ad — cheering not a face, but a perform- 
ance. Autograph-hunters, wise in the ways of 
their prey^ nabbed him as he tried to sneak 
through the side door. Still unaccustomed to his 
movie-given name, he signed "Jules Garfield." 

"Waddaya mean, Ju-leez?" snorted one indig- 
nant youth. 'Ain't you the guy wuz ina pitcha. 
name o' John Garfield?" 

''That's my grandfather." explained the har- 
assed Garfield, and fled. 

He'd gone to the preview to take notes on 
what he did wrong. By arrangement. Roberta, 
his wife, had sat downstairs. He preferred to be 
alone with his agony. "I'll twist my own fingers 
instead of yours," he'd promised. 

Introducing John Garfield — bright new luminary in the movie constellation 

He'd been warned against Hollywood pre- 
views. But then he"d been warned against other 
aspects of Hollywood and found his fears to be 
groundless. "I expected the worst and got the 
best — a swell part, a director who directed and 
still left me free to make what I could of Mickey 
Borden, plenty of good parts lined up so I don't 
have to moulder. No, I'm a Hollywood booster 
—so long as they don't star me. Anyway," he 
grinned. "I've got my sixty-day stage clause. 
So what can I lose?" 

It was the stage clause that postponed his 
arrival in Hollywood. Movie scouts had been 
after him for a couple of years. 

"No contract." said Garfield, "without a clause 
that says I can go back to the stage on sixty 
days' notice." 

"You're crazy." they lold him. "giving up all 
that dough. The theate is dying." 

Garfield's answer. u\ distinguished by logic, 

was nevertheless effecive. "You're dying," he 

(Continued on pnge 76) 




T^ \ 

With a twinkling eye on Hollywood's pet stars, 
Walt Disney turns the pages of Mother Goose's 
familiar nursery rhymes to create a brilliant new 
film — with results pictured exclusively in Photoplay 


'Any resemblance of charac- 
ters herein portrayed to per- 
sons living or dead is purely 
coincidental," Mr. Disney as- 
sures us; but, unless our eyes 
deceive us, that's satchel- 
mouth Joe E. Brown who's just 
done a hottruckin' number with 
Martha Raye. Joe won by a kiss 
— see the outline on his face? 

Old King Cole (Hugh Herbert) was a merry old soul, a merry old 
soul was he; he called for his fiddlers and he called for his 
bowl, but when the bowl was opened, the soup began to quack. 
Woo, woo, woo, it's not Mother Goose — but it is Donald Duck 

The King's Jester (frozen-faced Ned 
Sparks), with cigar in mouth and stick 
(topped by Ed "The Perfect Fool" 
Wynn) in hand, sees nothing funny 
in the King's entertainers, so^"Woo, 
woo, woo, off with their heads . . .' 

"My fiddlers, goody-goody-goody . . ." gleefully 
cries Old King Cole as Groucho, Harpo and Chico 
ut in their appearance as Fiddlers Three. They tune 
their fiddles, get ready to play, then, in typical 
Marxian manner, break them over their knees 

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great 
fall — much to the merriment of that smug little Charlie 
McCarthy who has aroused the ire of W. C. Humpty- 
Dumpty Fields by heckling, "Hah-hah-hah — lovely day — 
lovely day — what a beautiful sunrise — or is that your nose? 

l-vant-so-much-to-be-alone Garbo has her wish 
gratified when she plays "See-saw Marjorie Daw" 
with Robinson. "O.K., Babe, you asked for it," 
says Eddie, as he teeters from his end of the totter 

(Continued on the following page) 






tk»p «\^ tS H^ c ,-wn' 

rf e * V* 


Along comes Oliver Hardy, the Pieman whom 
Simple Simon meets at the Fair. Simon pulls a pie 
from the middle of the pieman's wares without dis- 
turbing the order of the stack. But when Mr. Wise- 
man Pieman tries it, what happens to the pies 
never occurred in any volume of Mother Goose 







cO* S >°?V v 

Hv>' r \\0^ 
c& c 


Nimble-footed Fred Astaire is a 
star member of the large and 
famous brood who "lived in a 
Shoe." When they put on a 
show to help out their poor dear 
mother, kiddies Edna May 
Oliver, Mae West and ZaSu 
Pitts are trumpeteers who, with 
Cab Calloway and Fats Waller, 
offer a mad and merry finale 

Rub-a-dub-dub. Three men and a maid in a tub. 
Bold Captain Bligh (Charles Laughton) is "at sea 
without even a compass." Mariners two and three 
are Manuel (Spencer Tracy) and his too, too 
refined "leetle feesh," Freddie Bartholomew. Little 
Bo Peep (La Hepburn) moans for her lost sheep 


Out from behind a large pie pops Little Jack 
Horner. He neglects to "stick in his thumb and 
pull out a plum" in his haste to sing, in the 
inimitable Eddie Cantor manner, the tuneful 
"Sing a Song of Six Pence, a Pocketful of Rye, 
Four and Twenty B ackbirds baked in a Pie" 

Fraught with drama is the tragic 
situation of poor Little Bo Peep Hep- 
burn, who, scanning the horizon, re- 
cites dolefully and with perfect dic- 
tion, "I've lost my sheep — really I 
have. I can't find them anywhere — 
really, I can't. They were such 
lovely sheep — really they were" 





s* e : **?:*&* 

c,Vo e ft \ftc 


v.e»^' 'v « 

*"\,#>-Kl n 

ot«* e 



"Just friends" to the world at 

large — yet nowhere has domesticity 

taken on so unique a character 

as in this unconventional fold 


The romance of Clark Gable and Carole Lombard is an interest- 
ing manifestation of how famous untied twosomes take to one 
another's hobbies. But calling the case of Paulette Goddard and 
Charlie Chaplin (top) is something else again. Did they take 
the vows on Charlie's yacht? Even Hollywood wonders 

EVERY afternoon, for the past three years, 
a little meat market on Larchmont Ave- 
nue, near Paramount studios in Holly- 
wood, has received a telephone call from a 
woman ordering a choice New York cut steak. 

Sometimes she orders it sent to the Brown 
Derby, sometimes to an apartment penthouse 
on Rossmore Street, sometimes to the studio. 

Wherever George Raft happens to be dining. 

The woman who sees that George Raft has 
his favorite evening meal, no matter where he 
may be, ta Virginia Pine. She is not George's 
wife, although there's little doubt that she 
would be if George's long-estranged wife would 
give him a divorce. 

Carole Lombard is not Clark Gable's wife, 
cither. Still she has remodeled her whole Hol- 
lywood hfe for him. She calls him "Pappy," 
bunting with him. copies his hobbies, 
makes his interests dominate hers. 

Barbara Stanwyck is not Mrs. Robert Taylor. 
But she and Bob have built ranch homes next 
to each other. Regularly, once a week, they 

visit Bob's mother. Mrs. Brugh, for dinner. 
Regularly, once a week. too. Barbara freezes 
homemade ice cream for Bob from a recipe his 
mother gave her. 

Nowhere has domesticity, outside the marital 
reached such a full flower as in Holly- 
wood. Nowhere are there so many famous un- 
married husbands and wives. 


To the outside world Clark Gable and Carole 
Lombard might as well be married. So might 
Bob Taylor and Barbara. Or George Raft and 
Virginia Pine, Charlie Chaplin and Paulette 
Goddard. Unwed couples they might be termed. 
But they go everywhere together; do every- 
thing in pairs. No hostess would think of in- 
viting them separately, or pairing them with 
another. They solve one another's problems, 
handle each other's business affairs. 

They build houses near each other, buy land 
in bunches, take up each other's hobbies, father 
or mother each other's children — even correct 
each other's clothes — each other's personalities! 
Yet, to the world, their official status is "just 
friends." No more. 

Yet George Raft, a one-woman man if there 
ever was one, is as true to Virginia Pine as a 
model husband would be. He has been, for 
three years. He has just bought her an expen- 
sive home in Beverly Hills. Recently, when 
they had a slight tiff, George took out some 
other girls, but was plainly so torch-burdened 
he could hardly stand it. He has never se- 
riously looked at anyone else. Nor has Vir- 

Consider the results — strictly out of wedlock. 

Before they met and fell in love, George was 
the easiest "touch" in Hollywood. He made big 
and easy money and just so easily did it slip 
through his fingers and into the outstretched 

palms of his myriad down-and-out friends. 
George, who came up the hard way, still has a 
heart as big as a casaba melon and as soft in- 
side. But he is more careful with his money 
now. He invests it — and well. 

Before he met Virginia, George's civic inter- 
ests ventured little further than Hollywood and 
Vine, the fights, and a few of the hotter night 
spots. Now George Raft has his finger in a 
dozen Los Angeles business ventures and com- 
munity interests. He is a solid citizen. 

Before George and Virginia teamed up as a 
tight little twosome, George gloried in flashy, 
extremely-cut clothes. His suits, always im- 
maculately knife-edge creased, had trousers 
with the highest waistlines in town. His coats 
were tight across the shoulders, narrowed ex- 
tremely at the waist. His shoes were narrow, 
pointed and Cuban-heeled. He was Mister 

Virginia talked him into seeing Watson, one 
of Hollywood's most exclusive tailors. What's 
more, she talked him out of the theatrical 
clothes and into a more conservative taste. 

All this is called "settling down." It usually 
happens to people after they've been married. 
Only George and Virginia still aren't married. 
He lives at the El Royale Apartments and Vir- 
ginia lives in another building up the street. 
They just go together. But she orders his 
meals. And he spoils her little girl to death. 


Gilbert Roland (top) has been Connie Bennett's 
devoted slave for years, while Connie's titled hus- 
band remains in Europe. Just "going together" 
are Virginia Pine and George Raft — but she orders 
his meals and he fathers her little daughter, Joan 

Another "almost perfect" domestic picture — Barbara 
Stanwyck (top, with her son Dion) and Robert Taylor. 
Interests — deep, expensive, permanent — merged when 
Bob bought the knoll adjoining Barbara's Northridge 
ranch. Marriage couldn't have worked more of a change 

No real father could be more infatuated than 
George with Virginia's five-year-old daughter, 
Joan. Nor would you call George the perfect 
picture of a family man, either. He has already 
paid up an insurance policy that will guarantee 
Joan a nice little stake when she is ready for 
college. He seems to lie awake nights planning 
something new and delightful to surprise her 
with whenever he sees Virginia, and that's 
usually all the time. 

One of the stories the salesgirls still tell down 
at Bullock's- Wilshire, Los Angeles' swankiest 
store, is about the day Virginia Pine and little 
Joan came into the shop. Joan spied something 
she wanted right then. But Virginia, wishing to 
impress upon her daughter that a person isn't 

always able to have what he or she likes in this 
world, said, "But, Joan, you can't have that. 
You haven't the money to pay for it." 

"Oh, that's all right," stated Joan in a loud, 
clear voice. "Just charge it to George Raft!" 

When Bob Taylor docked in New York from 
England and "A Yank At Oxford," he waited 
around a couple of hours for a load of stuff he 
had bought over there to clear customs. Most 
of it was for — not Bob — but Barbara Stanwyck 
and her little son, Dion. 

They've been practically a family since Bob 
bought his ranch estate in Northridge and 
built a house there. 

Northridge, itself, is an interesting mani- 
festation of how Hollywood's untied twosomes 

buy and build together. It lies in a far corner 
of the San Fernando Valley, fairly remote from 
Hollywood, all of fifteen miles from Bob's stu- 
dio, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. No coincidence 
can possibly explain his choosing that site, 
pleasant and open though it is. right beside Bar- 
bara Stanwyck's place. 

Barbara was there first. With the Zeppo 
Marxes. she established Marwyck Ranch to 
breed thoroughbred horses. She built a hand- 
some ranch house and moved out. Bob Tay- 
lor had never been especially interested in either 
ranch life or horses until he started going with 
Barbara. But witness how quickly their inter- 
ests — deep and expensive, permanent int> 
(Continued on po : 


: i 7 

The story of a jungle 
child in a modern world 


THOSE who saw a very small, half-naked 
brown boy making an oversized elephant 
do exactly as he wanted him to in the pic- 
.illed "Elephant Boy," released just a year 
and a half ago, might have been somewhat sur- 
prised to meet a young fellow named Sabu 
ir on his recent visit to these United 
Even seeing his new picture, "Drums," 
> preparation for the Sabu that came into 
a drawing room at the Ritz-Carlton, shortly 
after a giant Sikh guard who wore his beard 
rolled up in a hair net had waved us toward a 
chair and .-aid, "Pliz — down-sit'.'" 

We down-sat with our back to the door and 
our attention was riveted momentarily on an- 
other large uniformed Sikh, minus hair net, who 
the room and, it being one of 
chilly autumn days, pointed an electric 
m at us and turned it on full blast. 
Then, almost as though he had sprung out of 
appeared a slim, brown- 
ftkinni fellow in a Kray English-cut suit 

and seai let turban. Mercifully, a sudden wide 
smile turned this poised young person into the 
well- r em em bered little boy, Sabu. 

We hadn't heard him come in. He seems to 
enter a room a noiselessly as he ever moved 
about a jungle Thoughtfully, he ordered the 
fan turned ofT. He spoke to the Sikh in his 
own language, but. turning back to us, lowered 
his voice and. indicating both guards, said. "I 
think they know more English than they say. 

Sabu, the little Hindu 
lad of "Elephant Boy" 
and "Drums" fame, has 
grown into a poised 
cosmopolite, sharing in- 
terests in common with 
such stars as Ann 
Sothern and Fredric 
March (above, left) 

You know, they have been in England longer 
than I have." Then he added, "But who learns 
a language Easter, ;* grown man or a boy?" A 
boy, of course. "Yes," said Sabu, "because a 
grown man — he always wants to go in the eve- 
nings and have a good time at night clubs. A 
boy can work." His own English is very good 
and has surprisingly little accent. 

"Do you need much guarding?" we asked, 
looking back at the colorful Sikhs. Sabu 
grinned and we suggested, "Of course, they are 
very good decorations for a visiting picture 

"I ought not to say that," observed Sabu 

IT is pretty evident that the great change in 
Sabu is due not merely to the fact that he has 
grown ten inches in height since he made 
"Elephant Boy" — as youngsters of his age are 
bound to do — or that, instead of the scant cloth 

tied about his middle like a relic of infant days, 
he is now wearing coveted long trousers. That 
rollicking Hindu child with his occasional 
strange small dignity has grown into a poised 
young cosmopolite, albeit with a boyish eager- 
ness and a mischievous sense of humor break- 
ing through. He is a likeable kid — very direct. 

Whenever you talk with Master Sabu Das- 
tagir these days, the conversation invariably 
gets around to airplanes. It usually includes 
fast cars, too. After all, he grew up with ele- 
phants and they are said to be the fastest 
travelers in the animal kingdom. 

So, in the two years that he has been in Eng- 
land, the progress to an interest in motors and 
planes is probably a natural development. He 
sketches pretty well and it is significant that 
nowadays every time he picks up a pencil he 
draws either elephants or airplanes. It used to 
be only elephants. Maybe he is transportation- 
(Continued on page 80) 


/\ 3rp&a&4- I 

Epitome of aesthetic Hollywood: Eng- 
lish Madeleine Carroll, wife of Lon- 
don's Philip Astley; co-worker, in 
"Cafe Society," of Paramount's Fred 
MacMurray; and chief cardiac dis- 
turber of males the world over 




The "eyes" have it here — or they will, after you've 
worked this special Photoplay optical guessing 
game and spotted the wearers of the dark glasses. 
P.S: they take their glasses off on page 84 






i . ;V-. 











Youngest of the "lucky MacDon- 
alds" of Philadelphia — Jeanette, 
the redhead, whose voice has awed 
gaping grammar-school audiences, 
Broadway musical critics, commer- 
cial connoisseurs of Hollywood. A- 1 
member of the West Coast "team- 
sters' union" by right of her per- 
sistent partnership with Nelson Eddy 
of M-G-M's "Sweethearts," she 
defied conventions over a year ago 
by being married — in pink — to an- 
other man and, as Mrs. Gene 
Raymond, has been seeing a rose- 
colored world ever since 




4it ( /Jik#. 

The "half and half" Merle Oberon, 
international by birth and profes- 
sion, who, by a special film pact, 
emotes eight months for American 
Goldwyn, eight months for English 
Korda. The Lady now of Goldwyn's 
"The Cowboy and the Lady," the 
erstwhile "Queenie" O'Brien 
Thompson of Australia confirms her 
heritage by talking like an English- 
woman, wearing clothes with a 
French flair, stating with American 
frankness that someday she'd like 
to marry and have six children, 
"three for each side of the table" 


S BU/) 


Joan Crawford gets a profes- 
^ sional change by trouper 
^ Shipstad and escort Romero 


Style interest centered in Janet Gaynor, wearing "new per- 
sonality" clothes designed by her rumored fiance, Adrian 


^ ?0? rt 

,v o< * e 






The merry young skates of Hollywood flash their stuff 
after the opening of the Ice Follies — which solves the 
Great Movie Mystery as to why, on a certain /f morning 
after/' half of filmtown took their meals standing up 

Product of icy Montana, Gary Cooper, came with skates 
slung over shoulder, but just "spectated" with Mrs. Cooper 

low, celebrities donned skates at the Pan 

/ards were: a laurel to Betty Grable and 

►posite page) for endurance; to Charlie 

;ro (top), for honest endeavor; to Joan 

of the troupe), for "catch on quickly" 

palm to veteran Mickey Rooney (above 

»r his ice tricks, which made professionals 

ling nonchalance of his sartorial effects 



Dolores Ethel Barrymore, the eight-year-old 
daughter of Dolores Costello and John Barry- 
more, is as lovely as a bit of rare lace or a por- 
trait you have put away in lavender and lemon 
verbena. On the day she was asked her fa- 
vorite story, she wore a short-waisted, puffed- 
sleeved, ankle-length frock of shadow-pink or- 
gandie with a sash of dusty blue baby ribbon 
velvet. She is called Deda, and her favorite 
story is the story of Honey Bear because of 
the old bear's sunny disposition, consideration 
of which would materially lessen her fears if 
ever she found herself lost in the woods! 

DURING the past twelve months, 
Dixie Willson has personally called 
upon forty of America's most illus- 
trious children to ask each of them two 
questions: first, his favorite story; second, 
his reason for the choice. 

Forty portraits, with autographs, and 
twenty of the chosen stories retold, are to 
be found in one of the most interesting and 
unusual books of the fall season, which 
made its bow on November, the first, called 
"Favorite Stories of Famous Children," 
published by Henry Holt. 

Herewith we present a bouquet from the 
book's pages; a bouquet of those children 
who reflect Hollywood and in whom our 
readers will have an especial interest. 

A child's favorite story is more than 
just ... a favorite story. Because one 
day it will be the memory of a certain 
armchair by a certain window, gray rain 
over a certain November garden, the eyes 
or the voice you love to remember best 
of all. So to have found that favorite 
story when you are yet as young as 
Johnny-jump-up in April is to have found 
one of the rarest treasures you will ever 
possess. As expressed with enchanting 
seriousness by Helen Hayes' seven-year- 
old daughter, Mary . . . "Your favorite 
story is one of the very most importantest 
things you ought to decide because it's go- 
ing to be one of the things you want to save 
for your children." 




Sandra Burns, who has just turned 
four, is the sweetest punctuation in 
a day for her mother, Gracie Allen, 
and her daddy, George Burns. She 
can't quite toss off an autograph, 
but she's perfectly certain about her 
favorite story, which is "Peter Rab- 
bit," because he is always doing ex- 
actly the things she likes to pretend 
she is doing herself 

They don't come any finer, at fourteen, than 
young Paul Whiteman. And since he's al- 
ways liked the sea, his favorite story is 
Dana's "Two Years Before the Mast"; and 
with a reason typical of a straightforward 
American boy. "I always put a lot of faith 
in Santa Claus," says Paul, "and then I 
found out about it. Ever since then, the 
things I like are the things I know are real" 

Gloria Lloyd, wearing a gay blue play 
suit, a bright daisy chain around her 
long light hair giving her quite the air 
of a Queen of the May, assured us 
her favorite story is "Understood 
Betsy," because she is certain that no 
matter how old she is, she will love 
it just as much as she does now 

The favorite story of six-year-old 
John Barrymore is Andersen's 
"Snow Queen," and for the follow- 
ing sound reason: It is such a good 
story that they made a play out of 
it, and it was such a good play that 
he was taken to see it, and, since a 
play happens at nighttime, this en- 
abled him, in addition to the thrills 
of the play itself, to find out for the 
first time in his life what the real 
moon and stars and night look like 

OD^wl Jy OAMj/rv&~il^ 

Leslie Howard, Jr. possesses that 
quaint charm which is the inherit- 
ance of all English children. Quite 
English, too, is her love of horses. 
She has owned them and has rid- 
den them ever since she can re- 
member. And so her favorite 
story is the tale of a horse; the 
story of Hildebrand . . . "Such 
a jolly ridiculous beast," says Les- 
lie, "that I'm sure it will always 
be my favorite story because I 
never can quite finish laughing 
at it." 



J f 

Father of two — Don Ameche, leading young bene- 
dict of the film colony. Personable possessor of a 
Coast-to-Coast name, he wins celluloid sanction in 
Fox's "The Three Musketeers" by his smile, radio 
royalties by his "Sunday night" voice, Hollywood's 
homage by reason of his "take a chance" technique 

Mother of two— Joan Blondell, good 
wife at heart, actress at will, tom- 
boy by nature; the shining light 
of Warners' "Love Bites Man" and 
of the fourfold Powell menage 


1. WILLIAM POWELL: What every smart sheik should 
know, or Turkey-Trotting your way to a lady's heart — 
as done by Bill Powell ten years ago. The Fred Astaire 
of '28 in a desert comedy presents a certain like- 
ness to his wackier roles today — eh, Watson? 

2. MAY ROBSON: Many times a grandmother and more 
recently a great-grandmother, she looks younger 
every year. Left, as she was in 1907 in "The Regi- 
mentation of Aunt Mary." This screen mother doesn't 
believe in sparing the rod and spoiling the start 

3. MIRIAM HOPKINS: Seen here in a middy blouse, she 
was almost as cute as she is today in mink! At this 
time (fifteen years ago), she thought she'd be a 
dancer, signed later for a ballet tour. Luckily, she 
was saved for films by a last-minute broken ankle 

4. LIONEL BARRYMORE: Now called the greatest living 
actor, he's been in the spotlight for fifty-nine years. 
Eighteen years ago in "The Copperhead" (above), 
his piercing eyes were as familiar as they are now. 
Time changes everything but the Barrymore profile! 

5. FREDRIC MARCH: Time and March— but Freddie has 
the march on time, for he hasn't changed in ten years! 
In 1928 (above), when he did his Barrymore stage 
take-off in "The Royal Family," John was there and 
roared! Footlight fever is still in Freddie's blood! 

6. ADOLPHE MENJOU: The same mustached Menjou 
seventeen years ago — when he bluffed his way to 
stardom with Valentino in "The Sheik." A $35 flivver 
and a $ 1 ,000 wardrobe did the trick. The flivver was 
paid for — the wardrobe, a walking ad for a tailor! 

7. ALAN HALE". Some villains have all the luckl Twenty- 
five years of scoundrelhood have won Alan fame and 
fortune. Where there's a movie there's a menace: 
the Hale pictured here began in 1914 with the tin- 
type. Flickers came and went; Alan always prospered! 

8. FRED MxMURRAY: Vocal boy before he made good; 
but even in 1924, Fred (right) had plenty of sax ap- 
peal. After tooting his way into a band, he went 
West — but the movie moguls were tone-deaf! 
Later, scouts "discovered" him touring on Broadway 

9. GARY COOPER: Twenty-one years haven't changed 
that lopsided grin. The anti-glamour boy himself, 
bursting with pride over his first hard-won motor- 
cycle, when he was long, lean and seventeen in 
Helena, Montana. Today he rides a Goldwyn saddle 

10. CHARLES RUGGLES: Fifteen years ago, he was rolling 
'em in the aisles as the "Battling Butler" of '23 — the 
same solemn stuttering Charlie (left); and his gags 
packed the same hearty laughs. Usually on a spree in 
his film roles, he's really a quiet, soft-spoken fellow 

11. GENE RAYMOND: Ruffle him up today and this is the 
way he'd look — as he did in 1923 in "The Potters" 
when his stage name was Raymond Guion. His new 
leading lady (and missus), Jeanette MacDonald, now 
fixes his neckties — and we'll bet they stay tied! 

12. WALLACE BEERY: A slippery fellow in 1914, his vil- 
lainous career began over twenty-five years ago. 
Hissed and booed then for this mustache and wicked 
curl, bad-man Beery is today one of the screen's most 
lovable rascals — but he looks the same as before! 



m^ t 



On California's Himalaya-like Mt. Whitney, RKO's George 
Stevens is directing a major production battle, the majes- 
tic scope of which may be judged somewhat from these 
stirring scenes. It is the film saga of Gunga Din, native 
hero of the Kipling poem on the British conquest of India. 
By means of a loud-speaker and telephone system, Director 
Stevens jogs up musketeers Cary Grant, Victor McLaglen 
and Doug Fairbanks, Jr.; keeps Gunga Din (Sam Jaffe, top) 
in action; lines up Highlanders, white-skinned, and Hindu 
Thugs, brown-skinned — by wholesale spray-gun action. Re- 
laxation from the battle fray consists in more personal and 
pleasant direction of the Fairbanks-Joan Fontaine romance 



— Joan Crawford and Margaret 
Sullavan ... in that spectacular 
M-G-M presentation, "The Shin- 
ing Hour," a film to merit the 
public's cheers ... in the arms 
of their respective screen hus- 
bands, Melvyn Douglas and 
Robert Young. Featuring two 
glowing girl breadwinners, top 
stars of a top-budget picture 

Come wind or rain, earthquake or 
hurricane, Mrs. Grundy's preco- 
cious offspring brings you the 
latest gossip on the flicker-folks 

Solo Act— With Reason 

ARE you free, white, twenty-one and can you 
date a beautiful girl any night in the week if 
you choose? 

Well, lucky you. It's more than two famous 
screen stars, James Stewart and Tyrone Power, 
can do. 

One evening last week at the Beverly Brown 
Derby, Jimmy Stewart sat alone having a soli- 
tary dinner. Across the way sat two young 
ladies from Idaho. They were unable to swal- 
low a bite — just sat watching the handsome 
young actor. 

"Just think," one said to the other, "of all the 
thousands of girls who would give their eye 
teeth to be eating dinner with Jimmy Stewart 
and yet here he is alone." Finally, one of the 
girls could bear it no longer and sent over a 
note saying, "Couldn't you get a date tonight?" 

Jimmy grinned back but said nothing. 

"It isn't a question of getting a date and cer- 
tainly not with Jimmy," Ty Power said, when 
we told him of the incident. "It's a question 

of having a date and facing embarrassment for 
both you and the girl. It's got so I never step 
out the door with a young lady, even an old 
friend, that our marriage isn't predicted by 
Hollywood. Or some romantic question is at- 
tached to it, at least. 

"You can imagine how any girl feels when 
she's faced with these constant explanations and 
embarrassments. So, like Jimmy, these days I 
either trot off alone or go everywhere with my 
mother, sister or friend who I know understands 
and won't mind." 

Comment on Miss Davis 

WE'VE said it before and we say it again: Holly- 
wood is small-town to the core. And like every 
other small town, it has its favorite drugstore. 
At Schwab's, neither elaborate nor unusual, can 
be found, at most any hour, a movie celebrity at 
the soda fountain. 

Here Robert Taylor, perched on a fountain 
stool, eats many a solitary dinner. 

And of course one is bound to hear interest- 
ing tidbits as the coca colas fly hither and yon. 

For instance, Bette Davis' chauffeur, waiting 
for a package at the drug counter, met another 
chauffeur also waiting. 

"What goes on up at your house?" the sec- 
ond chauffeur asked. 

"I don't know what it's all about," Bette's 
chauffeur sighed, "but I can tell you this: I 
never knew two people to love each other as 
much as Miss Davis and Mr. Nelson. I just 
can't understand it." 

Thoughts on Deanna 

HOLLYWOOD is amused at a story about Uni- 
versale young lady wonder — Miss Durbin. 

It seems an extremely self-assured and so- 
phisticated chatter-writer lunched with Deanna 
at the studio one day recently. All briskness 
and efficiency, the writer assumed command of 
the situation and proceeded to talk. Gradually, 
however, the writer became less and less volu- 
ble until finally, around dessert time, there was 
a complete change in the situation. The writer, 
her tail feathers plucked for a fare-thee-well, 
was listening quietly to sensible and adult ob- 
servations delivered by Deanna. 

"It was the way she looked at me." the writer 
said afterward, "with those clear penetrating 
eyes looking through me and that little half 
twinkle thrown in for good measure. I've never 
been rendered so unsure of myself in my life. 

"I wonder what she really thinks of me," the 
writer sighed. 

Finis for Garbo? 

ANYTHING can be overdone, even in Holly- 
wood, and all this secrecy surrounding Garbo 
has finally overreached itself. 

When Garbo returned to Hollywood after her 
lpng European sojourn, one of the star's few 
friends phoned a friend of hers. 

"Look." she hissed in the phone. "Greta will 
be here tomorrow, but I dare not name the time 
or place of her arrival. I must keep it secret 
for a while." 









For once, Carole Lombard was on the 
receiving end of a practical joke. 
When her birthday rolled around, the 
crew of "Made for Each Other" threw 
a party. Her present? — a mule, whom 
"Missy" promptly christened Scarlett 
and added to her menagerie at home 

Why?" queried the friend. 
There was a sudden sputtering and stutter- 
ing over the wire. 

use it is Greta. She is coming!" 
. but who will care?" was the next ques- 
tion. "Who will be bothered or what will it 

The receiver went up with a slow click; you 
see, the friend was right. It didn't really matter 
much to anyone in Hollywood, anymore. 

Concerning Four Nice People 

IT'S the life of Riley for the Jones and Young 
families <>f Hollywood. When Mr. and Mrs. 
Bob Young end Mr and Mrs. Allan Jones de- 
cide to do b hit of Bight-seeing, the four hop 
into Allan's trailer and arc off for whatever 
place offeri th<- most excitement. 

Partners in a riding academy. Bob and Allan 
are the best of friends and so are their wives, 
which makes it pleasant when the evening 
chops must be cooked in the trailer for the eve- 
ning meal, or housekeeping duties divided be- 
tween them. 

Card games or good old-fashioned singing 
.re the entertainment between hops from 
rodeos to the races or the shore 

Nice people, these Jones and Youngs! 

Hank Fonda, out stepping with one of 
the prettiest wives in cinema circles. But 
don't get ideas — it's his own First Lady 

"I'm Married to Ronald Colman!" 

DENITA HUME, the English actress who mar- 
ried Ronald Colman, is considered Enigma 
Number Two in Hollywood; her famous hus- 
band being the top winner in the know-little- 
about group of people. 

"So few people know her," is the usual Holly- 
wood cry. "I can't say what she's like." 

But old Cal knows. 

After a friendly chat we discovered several 
things about the lady. 

To begin with, she's dark haired, vivacious, 
frank and honest and is just as thrilled over 
marrying the prize catch of Hollywood as any 
girl should be. 

"I wake up in the morning and think to my- 
self. It can't be. It just didn't happen.' " 

Her accent is charming. Her sense of humor 
(and she's English), keen as a razor. 

She was quite the big star in London, with 
all the fun, fans, thrills and excitement that 

Two and two make four — and four of 
the nicest people in Hollywood are 
the Allan Jones and the Bob Youngs. 
Why? See what Cal says about them 

go with that very important status. 

In fact, after one jamboree in which she and 
Noel Coward were brought together head on by 
clamoring fans, she declares Mr. Coward, his 
collar wilted and hair awry, looked at her and 

"Isn't this disgraceful? I wouldn't do with- 
out it." 

In Hollywood she spent sixteen months in a 
row making an M-G-M Tarzan epic. "I made a 
great deal of money — oh, a lot," she said. "But 
nearly everyone had forgotten me in the mean- 

"And then after Tarzan, for some reason, 
nothing happened. Every picture I was sched- 
uled for fell through or the part didn't fit. Sud- 
denly I found myself using up all the money I 
made on Tarzan. After 'The Last of Mrs. 
Cheney' I didn't make another picture. Ronnie, 
of course, can afford to stay off the screen a 
whole year. He's so well established. But I'm 

"Even my part in 'The Cowboy and the 
Lady' was eliminated from the story and there 
I was again. 

"I can't say how happy I was to go into 
'Peck's Bad Boy at the Circus.' You know, 
after a while one's confidence gets undermined 
and presently I found myself wondering if all 
my London success was about anything. I got 
to thinking maybe I wasn't an actress at all." 

nER blue eyes laugh as she talks. Her best 
friends are Heather Thatcher, the English ac- 
tress, and Mrs. Douglas Fairbanks, the former 
Lady Ashley. 

In fact, Benita accompanied the Fairbanks on 
their round-the-world honeymoon as far as 

"I was engaged to Jack Dunfree when I ar- 
rived in Hollywood first," she confided, "but 
that was broken off. 




*Y t 



*V» A 




"Sewing, eating and arguing are my favorite 
sports," she says, her eyes twinkling. "Of 
course, I like swimming, boating and riding, 
but I do love sewing, eating and arguing. 

"The sewing came about after I stood for all 
the smug satisfaction from Heather and Sylvia 
I could bear as they sat knitting or sewing away 
with such a satisfied look. So I took it up and 
I'm even smugger than both of them together." 

She doesn't dare wear her hair atop her head. 
"I'd grow pompous right away," she explains, 
"sweeping my hair up with a gesture of elegant 
pompousness." But she does put it up in curlers 
at night to get the right curl in her short bob. 

"I've moved into Ronnie's Beverly Hills home, 
cats, dogs, birds and all. And it's too wonder- 
ful. I can't believe it yet. 

"I'm really married to Ronnie Colman!" 

High Lights and Low Lights of the Month — 

I HE rift between George Raft and Virginia 
Pine grows wider and wider, while the love 
between George and Virginia's little girl grows 
stronger and stronger. . . 

Clark Gable, attempting to master the art of 
tap dancing for his role in "Idiot's Delight," 
doesn't know an electrician hid on a high rafter 
of the sound stage to watch Clark, who per- 
mitted no watchers. And the electrician be- 
came so convulsed at Clark's awkwardness he 
nearly fell headlong at the actor's feet. . . 

After two years of courtship, Ida Lupino and 
Louis Hayward are saying their "I do's" . . . 

Charlie Chaplin's threat to play Hitler in his 
next picture has the town a-twitter. . . 

People are wondering about that sudden 
weariness in Ty Power's eyes. Could it be just 
physical exhaustion that has so changed Ty, 
taken the sparkle from his eyes — or is it some 
deeper reason? . . . 

The love story of Jack Oakie is more hectic 
than any he has ever played on the screen. 
Jack was so in love with his estranged wife, he 
escorted her home from every party and they 
sat for hours before the house talking it over. 
Mrs. Oakie's answer was — a reconciliation! 

It's a Paramount Parrot 

CLAUDETTE COLBERT is having, not serv- 
ant problems, but servants' animal problems 
in abundance these days. Claudette has a cook, 
a jewel, so to speak, who owns a parrot that 
Claudette's two dogs can't stand. So she's had 
to have a cage built way at the back of the 
yard for the bird who, when he wants to come 
visiting at the house, calls loudly for "Miss 
Zaza," and then insists on being brought in per- 
sonally by the star herself. 

t— dinner hour at the Troc, where Randy Scott 
) her friends) are caught in a serious discussion 

Stork News 

IT'S baby season in Hollywood with the long- 
legged bird the most popular celebrity in town. 
Over on the Metro lot, Maggie and Maureen, 
the two "Sullivan" girls (only Maggie spells 
hers with two a's and Maureen goes individual 
with an "O' ") are discussing daily the problems 

of movie mothers. Maggie, wife of Leland 
Hayward, is expecting her second child and 
Maureen, wife of John Farrow, her first baby. 
But Al Jolson isn't letting anyone get ahead 
of him. Al, with one adopted son. is earching 
for a set of fine twin boys to carry on the name 
of Jolson. 

(Continued on page 65) 



20th Century-Fox 

FTEK a aeries of n • • hides, Shirley Tem- 

• idio baa given her. in this gay little picture, 

formula for her growing-up talents A 

little gul in a swank seminary, (he ia brought back 

i York because her father, architect Charles 

Parrel! hit by the depression. His return 

to the big time depends on the repentance of a flint- 

l okl finance-mogul who is holding up indus- 

■ urse. Shirley, through her naive 

charm, brings the old fellow around. Romance is 

□ Farrell and Amanda Duff; entertainment is) 

provided by Bill Robinson. Bert Lahr, Joan Davis 

and Cora Witherspoon. The film is frankly childlike I 

in theme, but Shirley is very cute and very capable. | 

Nice to see Charles Farrell again, too. 




• SUBMARINE PATROL— 20th Century-Fox 

I HIS is by all standards the best picture with a 
crime motif since "Scarface." It has compelling 
breathless suspense, pace and excitement and 
a kind of gross beauty. The fine cast, capably di- 
rected and abetted by superb photography, find the 
well-written script an opportunity to give memor- 
able performances. It's the story, told without com- 
promise, of two boys of the New York slums; one 
up to be . iininal. and that is Jimmy 

1 The othei becomes a priest — Pat O'Brien. 

1 ippeara in his old stamping grounds to 

find his pal, O'Brien, busily trying to reform the 
neighborhood. The problem of all ia a 

group ol kuls the Dead End brats, of course — who 
lowing in Cagney'a lethal t They 

illy lilmht the good name of American ado- 
ising their actions on B hero worship for 
the big crooki of our da- takes the boys 

out of O'Brien's hands and gives them tips on how 
to be ul as thieves, Meanwhile, lie 

into the b ling racket; 

and with him takes, for rom.c I sake, an- 

other of 01 inverta, beauteous Ann Sheri- 

At last, tl • • t.s militantly out to 

up the town I: I tght U< the 

,•. the chair and it is 

it hi i called upon to do a line thing he 

yellow o the kids won't reaped him — 

or ci mo any more Cagney'a performance is swell 

but he- i- iziven all the meat: O'Brien grabs off 

honors .vith his perfect work in a difficult role. 

ANNUALLY, for the past few years, Paramount has 
tossed an "Artists and Models" epic at you and you 
have responded with pretty much enthusiasm. This 
time you've good reason; the '38 edition has pace, a 
multitude of gags, a cast in top performing condi- 
tion and enough story to keep everything rolling. 
Jack Benny plays the theatrical managing producer 
who is stock in Paris with his troupe of girls. By 
sundry hooks and crooks he keeps them one step 
ahead of the gendarmery, so that part of the time 
the gang are locked in a hotel room and part of 
the time they are hiding in a couturier's shop. 

of course, is the opportunity for the fashion 
show, which is a feature of each "Artists and Models" 
installment. The story is centered about Joan Ben- 
nett, an American heiress visiting Paris because her 
fiance, a diplomatic attache, is there. She hates the 
quiet life alter all, she came from an oil town — 
and when Jack Benny, thinking she's also a down- 
and-outer, offers his help she accepts. Thus, with 

rig of singing and dancing beauties, she runs 
from adventure to adventure. Her pop comes chas- 
ing after her and the troupe adopts him, too. be- 
lieving him to be an old guy on his uppers. Real 
trouble comes when Joan covets part of the French 
collection of Josephine's crown jewels and Pop bor- 
rows a piece to have it copied. 

Benny, as usual, has good patter, which he de- 
livers with his incomparable timing. Mary Boland. 
the Yacht Club Boys and others supply comedy. The 
fashions are spectacular but impractical. 

UURING the World War America had a group of 
little wooden tubs — called "The Splinter Fleet"— 
which, unsung, went sailing over the seas in search 
of enemy submarines. Most of the time it was nip 
and tuck, with the submarine having the edge, natu- 
rally. Well, Twentieth Century-Fox has told the 
story of the "Splinters" in this film of a rich man's 
son, Richard Greene, who joins the Navy and is 
assigned to one of these little boats. The crew is 
composed of men from all walks of life, green and 
untutored. A sea captain in disgrace, Preston Foster, 
has been demoted to command of the ship after court 
martial and decides to regain his reputation by blow- 
ing up the very worst Hun submarine of them all. 
Thus the poor crew, who had thought they had a 
snap setup, are forced into heroism. Of course, Greene 
is shown the error of his snobbishness and, of 
course, there's a girl: one Nancy Kelly, new but 
beloved of her studio. She's the daughter of a 
freighter's captain. The captain thinks Richard is 
a no-good playboy — which, until War tests him. is 
true. For your information, there are two great 
suspense scenes in this movie, each highly exciting. 
The rest is background. 

Mr. Greene is likeable and good-looking; Preston 
Foster steals the piece with a really fine perform- 
ance; George Bancroft— as Nancy's father — does his 
work with understanding and good will. Miss Kelly 
herself is not pretty, but her bony Irish face has 
an interesting quality. She shows promise of being 
a good actress. 


BLONDIE— Columbia 

nS the beginning of a series which, if its comic- 
strip progenitor is any indication, will have fans 
panting in line to see every episode, this is mildly 
important. Penny Singleton is Blondie, Arthur 
Lake is Dagwood and little Larry Simms is Baby 
Dumpling. When you have finished seeing the 
picture you will remember nothing of it except that 
you laughed a good deal, which is by way of calling 
it a success. There's no story, just a series of predic- 
aments got into by Dagwood and Baby Dumpling, 
with Blondie working hard to save the day. Gene 
Lockhart does the best work as Dag wood's boss, but 
Miss Singleton has vivacity and Lake is quite won- 
derful as the perpetually tramped-on, misunder- 
stood, frantic husband. Take your children to this. 

• GRAND ILLUSION— World Pictures 

WITHOUT a battle montage or blonde spy, set in the 
drab surroundings of German prison camps, this 
foreign import is one of the finest of war films. All 
types of men in uniform are thrown together — each 
one contributing an important part in building up a 
tragically honest picture of the human side of war. 
The performances of Jean Gabin, middle-class real- 
ist, Pierre Fresnay, idealistic aristocrat, willing to 
sacrifice his life that his comrades might escape, and 
Eric von Stroheim, disillusioned German officer in 
command, are only a few of the excellent characters. 
French director Jean Renoir has borrowed the 
Impressionistic technique of his painter father. 
Emotions are suggested rather than sharply defined 
end the result is a restraint which will fascinate you. 


10 the thrilling strains of the waltzes he composed, 
the story of Johann Strauss, the great Viennese 
musician, has been brought to the screen with all 
the color, verve and drama which crowded his life. 
Fernand Gravet brings great understanding and 
humanness to his portrayal of Strauss, while Luise 
Rainer as his self-sacrificing wife is superb. Miliza 
Korjus, newest foreign import, sings like the pro- 
verbial lark and completely won over the preview 
audience with her magnificent voice. The music is 
one golden shower of melody featuring such favor- 
ites as "Tales of the Vienna Woods" and "The Blue 
Danube." Among the supporting cast Lionel Atwill 
and Hugh Herbert are conspicuous. Julien Duvivier 
earns his place among top directors for this. 


Angels with Dirty Faces Brother Rat 

Artists and Models Abroad The Citadel 
Suez Just Around the Corner 

The Mad Miss Manton Men with Wings 

Submarine Patrol Grand Illusion 

Sweethearts Young Dr. Kildare 

The Great Waltz The Young in Heart 


James Cagney in "Angels With Dirty Faces" 

Pat O'Brien in "Angels With Dirty Faces" 

The Dead End Kids in "Angels With Dirty Faces" 

Jack Benny in "Artists and Models Abroad" 

Eddie Albert in "Brother Rat" 
Jane Wyman in "Brother Rat" 

Rosalind Russell in "The Citadel" 

Robert Donat in "The Citadel" 
Ralph Richardson in "The Citadel" 

Shirley Temple in "Just Around the Corner" 

Preston Foster in "Submarine Patrol" 

Jeanette MacDonald in "Sweethearts" 
Nelson Eddy in "Sweethearts" 

Minnie Dupree in "The Young in Heart" 


VICTOR HERBERT'S music, as melodic as the color 
tones in which this extravaganza is filmed, sustains 
a familiar story here. The newest of the Jeanette 
MacDonald- Nelson Eddy pictures is a welcome ad- 
dition to the list of their successes. It has beauty, 
charm and great production and, in addition, a mas- 
terly blending of yesterday's light-opera technique 
with today's ultra-modern tempo. 

In the story, Nelson and Jeanette are sweethearts 
celebrating their sixth wedding anniversary and also 
their sixth year as stars of a Broadway play named 
"Sweethearts." Into this tranquil bit of happiness 
comes Reginald Gardiner, agent from Hollywood, 
who attempts to steal the pair for the movies from 
stage producer Frank Morgan. When it appears they 
are about to accept, playwright Mischa Auer steps 
in with a bit of plotting that not only stops the Hol- 
lywood plans, but causes the team to separate. Jean- 
ette and Nelson go their separate ways until Auer's 
machinations are uncovered and Morgan confesses 
his part in the strategy. There is a happy quality 
about the entire piece which may be sorely needed 
amid the deluge of bleak pictures with a message 
which Hollywood has produced lately and, as a re- 
sult, you will remember especially the blithe man- 
ner in which both Jeanette and Nelson handle their 
assignments. Neither has ever been in better voice. 
You will apprciate the work of little Terry Kilburn 
who plays Jeanette's brother and you will like 
Florence Rice as the faithful secretary. Director 
W. S. Van Dyke is to be congratulated. 

Selznick-United Artists 

I HE Gay Banditti," a novel by I. A. R. Wylie. 
introduces a wonderful family, who trot gaily about 
the world hunting for people to cheat. Mr. Selznick 
has made it all into a picture and. with the exception 
that one is rather flooded with whimsey, he has done 
a good job. 

Roland Young is very well cast as the Pukka 
Sahib, "late of the Bengal Lancers," who in reality 
was born in Canada and learned about Sahibs from 
his role in a roadshow. There could have been no 
choice but Billie Burke for Ma rmy, the vague, 
unmoral pretty mother. Janet Gaynor and Douglas 
Fairbanks. Jr. are the offspring who busily do their 
duty by searching out heirs and heiresses. At least, 
they do until the Riviera police find them out. Then, 
as they are on their way to London penniless, they 
meet an old lady. Miss Ellen Fortune. There's a 
train wreck and the banditti save the old girl's life. 
In return she asks them to stay with her in London. 
The rest of the story is that of the gradual decline and 
fall of the banditti into sentimental and honest ways, 
due to Miss Ellen's good influence. The Sahib gets a 
job selling super-cars: Dov-i. Jr. gets a clerk's posi- 
tion and his immediate superior is Paulette Goddard. 
This, by the way. is Miss Goddard's second picture 
and, although she has a cut-and-dried part, one still 
feels she has not sufficient warmth. Doug. Jr. gives 
the best performance of his growing Hollywood 
career. Minnie Dupree is very sweet and sincere 
as Miss Ellen and Richard Carlson does a nice job. 
(Continued on page 81) 



It's humiliatin'. Mickey Rooney's professional dignity takes a tumble 
when he meets up with Virginia Weidler in "Out West with the Hardys" 

EUROPE may be all worked up about what 
Adolf Hitler will do next. But as far as 
Hollywood and the rest of the world 
concerned, the future activities of .-mother tough 
little terror with the same initials are a darn 
sie,ht more vital. 

That's why we skip the million-dollar epics 
on our monthly set tour to check first on one 
Andy Hnrdy and the prospects of peace and 
quiet in the movie world. They're not so hot, 
we might as well tell you at once. But what can 
you expect with Mickey Rooney tangling with 
bucking broncos, cowpokes, red-eyed steers — 
and deadly little Virginia Weidler? 

"Out West With the Hardys," we understand, 
doesn't make Mickey Rooney feel very happy 
about the whole thing. Never before has 
Mickey's professional dignity taken such a tum- 
ble M-G-M has hired little pig-tailed Miss 
Weidler to make Andy look like twenty cents 

in every manly department of the Wild West, 
including riding, roping, shooting and even 

Mickey claims such a humiliating breakdown 
will ruin him with adoring adolescents the world 
over. His shining car, fancy wardrobe, football 
prowess and truckin' ability, says Mickey, have 
made him hot stuff with the high-school kids. 
He doesn't want to be exposed! 

As usual, "Out West With the Hardys" con- 
tains three distinct stories: Lewis Stone's busi- 
ness deal, Mickey's boastful shenanigans and 
Cecilia Parker's romancing. In each picture 
one of them gets a break. This time it's Cecilia's 
turn. Mickey's chief picture chore is to get pro- 
gressively skunked by Jake (Virginia Weidler), 
the little ranch girl. 

We watch Mickey writhing on the spot as 
Lewis Stone, in checked shirt, boots and som- 
brero, accuses him of abandoning Jake to the 

Fascinating as only movie news 
can be is this month's digest of 
the hijinks of the sound stages 


coyotes. Usually Mickey is smoothness itself — 
he never forgets a line — but suddenly in the 
middle of this scene he bursts out with a loud 

The cameras stop immediately and everybody 
looks Mickeywards, completely astonished. 
"What in the world is the matter, Mickey?" asks 
Lewis Stone. 

"Haw, haw!" chortles Mickey, pointing to 
Gordon Jones, the male lead and Cecilia's heart- 
beat. "His stomach growled at me!" That 
breaks it up for everybody, including us. We 
cool off on the "Ice Follies" set next door. 

"ICE FOLLIES" aptly demonstrates a new 
trend in movie-making that we find growing in 
Hollywood, spurred, no doubt, by the shortage 
of pictures. That is, shooting pictures before a 
cast, or even a story is ready. A trim little 
fancy figure skater named Bess Ehrhardt seems 
likely to have one of the dramatic leads as well 
as the skating lead, with Joan Crawford as the 
star of the picture. Bess, shapely and more on 
the pretty side than Sonja Henie, glides, as the 
prima ballerina, through a graceful number on 
a vast indoor rink inside a Metro sound stage. 
It's a startling set. Giant Indian totem poles 
with brilliant thunderbirds tower over the ice 
and brightly painted tepees line it. The skaters 
whirl like golden birds in glittering Indian cos- 
tumes. They can think of everything for the 
"Ice Follies," it seems — except what to use for 
a story. 

I HINGS are very different, however, with Rob- 
ert Taylor and Wallace Beery on the "Stand Up 
and Fight" set. There's enough story in Bob's 
third he-manizing picture to satisfy anybody. 
Director Woody Van Dyke unspins it to us the 
minute we enter the big colonial-tavern set 
where Bob, in a high beaver hat, stick and fawn- 
colored waistcoat is a sight — but hardly for sore 

"Stand Up and Fight," says Woody, is the 
story of early scraps between stagecoach lines 
and the pioneer railroads. The locale, Western 
Maryland, has never been featured on the screen 

This, believe it or not, is Bob Taylor's twenty- 
first picture part. It seems only yesterday that 
he burst so suddenly into big-time fame. 

UN the next set we visit, and the last place we'd 
expect it, we encounter hostilities and plenty of 
them. "Tailspin" at Twentieth Century-Fox, a 
sort of feminine "Test Pilot," pits Connie Ben- 
nett and Alice Faye against each other in a bitter 
script rivalry for aviation honors and handsome 
Kane Richmond. As we enter they're telling 
each other off. 

". . . selfish little heel!" cries Alice. 

". . . cheap little chaser!" returns Connie. 

Bop! Alice lets her have one. Smack! Con- 
nie retaliates with a roundhouse left. They mix, 



Hank Fonda and Tyrone Power, 
the famous brothers in "Jesse 
James," come in for plenty of 
personal Zanuckian attention 

no holds barred, keeping up a running fire of 
choice insults. When the hair is all pulled, the 
clothes ripped and the breath gone, Roy Del 
Ruth, grinning wickedly, waves each to her cor- 
ner with his "Cut!" 

When the gals drop, exhausted, and the 
scene's in the can, Connie smiles wanly. "I hope 
I didn't hurt you?" she asks Alice anxiously. 

"Oh, a few teeth and my spare rib — that's all," 
laughs Alice. They walk off arm in arm, smiling 
happily. The weaker sex — hey? Listen — neither 
Connie nor Alice has had so much fun in weeks! 

Nancy Kelly is booked with them in "Tail- 
spin," but she's not around. That's not hard to 
understand when we see her up the alley, a few 
stage doors away, giving Jesse James a farewell, 
ever-lovin' kiss before he goes to the jail- 

Nancy is Twentieth Century-Fox's new won- 
der girl. Only seventeen, she's just about the 
best actress on the TCF lot right now. The way 
Darryl Zanuck is spotting her in his biggest pic- 
tures spells only one thing — genuine stardom 
and right away. 

For "Jesse James" is Zanuck's epic of the 
year, from the standpoint of filming time, money 
and personal Zanuckian attention. It will nick 
the stockholders for two of those millions the 
Hollywood people mention so casually. 

Zee (Jesse's lovin' wife, and also Nancy 


Kelly) us m ■ clinch with Tyr. •■ mike 

u^t brushing their hair. The 
lender one, the voices low to low 
that even the sound monitor protests We can't 
: what they're saying, and we're prac- 
tically elbow When Ty tries to make 
it louder without stage-whispering, bis voice 
slips Into one of those middle-register notches 
and cracks tot mo squawk like a boy 
That ruins the scene 
but hands everybody s laugh, Including Ty. 

bttt," he grins, "I am a man'" 
They do it light next time, but before the 
lis for B print a voice yells, "Give 'em 
a lily meone to rush forward 

With posies for Nancy and Ty. Instead, a camera 
.rit holds a color chart before the still run- 
ning camera. The film is in Technicolor, and 
cm a lily," we learn, means give the 
camera a color test! We're a little relieved, at 
that, lor JeatC James with a lily in his hand 
would be a little too much for us, at this point. 

iROM Jes>e to Jascha is only a matter of two 
or three miles and from horse pistols to a famous 
fiddle is, of course, no trick at all in Hollywood. 
trick, though, tu tit the great violin virtu- 
oso tot I moving picture, if you consider 
the headache facing Sam Goldwyn. 

He had a contract with Heifetz at a fabulous 
Moreover, it had a time limit. The time 
limit was about to expire, but — here we go again 
— no story! So what we see is Jascha fiddling 
while Sam burns, but doing a very nice job of 
it, of course. Both Jascha and Sam. 

What interests us most about Heifetz is a little 
thing we notice out of the corner of our roving 
eye. We always thought geniuses (or is it 
genii?) were strong silent men, individual, im- 
perative, harking only to the Muse. 

But after every take we notice Heifetz peering 
across the sound stage at a beautiful woman who 
sits quietly at his dressing-room door. It's Flor- 
ence Vidor, his lovely wife. If she shakes her 
head. Heifetz asks for another take. If she nods, 
he says "Okay!" Yes sir, it's the little woman 
who says what's what — even to a genius. 

Our next stop is Columbia, the Gem of Gower 

After Frank Capra makes a picture, Columbia 
usually relapses into a state of economy coma. 
But the instantaneous profits of "You Can't Take 
It With You" have emboldened Harry Cohn into 
another immediate A. He's shooting "There's 
That Woman Again," a sequel to "There's 
Always A Woman," with Melvyn Doug- 
las again a private detective, driven to exaspera- 
tion by an active but addlepated spouse. Joan 
Bondell did the first one with Melvyn, you'll re- 



This classic afternoon frock of heavy wine-colored crepe was created 
for Carole Lombard by Irene of Bullocks-Wilshire. The flowing side 
drape that cascades to the hemline lends striking contrast to the 
pencil-slim silhouette of the frock. Lilly Dache designed a matching 
draped turban of an interesting straw and wool mixture fabric and 
Carole wears it with her most becoming "long" coiffure. Miss Lombard 
is currently appearing in Selznick-lnternational's "Made forEachOther" 


member. But this time, when Columbia touched 
Warners for the loan of Joan, they said they 
could use her themselves. So Virginia Bruce 
got the nod. 

Judging from the antics of Virginia and Mel- 
vyn on the set, they shape up nicely as the top 
screwball comedy team in town. 

AROUND the corner, at Paramount, we run into 
a real-life situation, on the face of things irra- 
tional as the plot of "There's That Woman 
Again." The first set we visit, "Ambush," taken 
from the Liberty Magazine serial, features 
Gladys Swarthout without a song to sing! 
What's more, it's straight action melodrama, 
jammed with wild rides, gangsters, cops, bank 
robbers, kidnappers and gunplay. Now who 
would have thought a Metropolitan opera star 
would ever end up in a picture like that? The 
only explanation we can offer is that Hollywood 
is currently selling opera talent short. 

Paramount is also busy with "King of China- 
town," "Say It In French" and "Tom Sawyer, 
Detective" all rolling at once. 

A constitutional weakness for Mark Twain's 
Tom and a desire to see Hollywood's latest pair 
of Cinderella kids take us at once to the "Tom 
Sawyer, Detective" set. Billy Cook as Tom and 
Donald O'Connor as Huck have the biggest 
chance of their young lives to turn into child 
stars, if they cash in on their luck. ' Billy is the 

son of a Stanford University chemistry instruc- 
tor. Billy's mama gave him the choice of learn- 
ing to act or washing dishes. He chose acting 
and made a hit on the radio. Donald is a lucky 
theatrical kid Director Wesley Ruggles dis- 
covered one night at the Biltmore Bowl in Los 
Angeles. They got the jobs when Paramount 
couldn't persuade Mickey Rooney and another 
young name star to fill the bill. 

There's just time to lamp Olympe Bradna in 
"Say It In French" before we leave the Para- 
mount lot, so we duck in dangerously close to a 
red shooting light where Ray Milland, Olympe, 
Irene Hervey, Mary Carlisle and Janet Beecher 
are throwing French fast-talk around so furi- 
ously we get a little dizzy. 

This one's a farce, as you might imagine. Rich 
man's son Ray marries a French cutie in Paris 
and brings her home, only to find his family 
have arranged another marriage for vital busi- 
ness reasons. So he poses Olympe as the maid 
and gets engaged to Irene Hervey. Having your 
wife around the house playing housemaid can 
be a little awkward at times and that's where 
the fun comes in. Especially when Irene catches 
on and helps out with the grand illusion. 

The main attraction on the "Say It In French" 
set, to us, though, is Janet Beecher's blue hair. 
Janet is the only woman in Hollywood with sky- 
blue tresses. It all started as a mistake once 
when a beauty operator spilled some blueing on 
her head. Janet thought she was ruined for the 
movies. But to her surprise, she photographed 
a lot better. And she's kept it that way ever 
since! But don't go round dipping your coiffure 
in the inkwell — it might not work on everybody. 

UNIVERSAL hasn't anything new to show us 
this month, but we hustle out to the San Fer- 
nando Valley anyway and on to Warners where 
one of the most interesting pictures of the month 
is just starting. We catch "Dark Victory" on its 
opening day. 

"I can hardly wait to get into this one," Bette 
Davis, the star of the picture, tells us. And 
Bette was the girl who said in court they were 
working her too hard at Warners! 

"Dark Victory" is the story of a modern 
woman who faces blindness and death, conquer- 
ing the fear of both by love and courage. Bette 
plays the rich girl who marries ambitious doctor 
(Continued on page 69) 

Ray Milland and that little 
French cutie, Olympe Bradna, 
are the magnets that draw 
our reporter to the "Say It In 
French" set, but there he 
finds still another attraction 





19 3 9 

— pretty as a picture in a romantic gown 
of pink slipper satin like this one worn by 
Bette Davis, soon to be seen in Warners' 
"Dark Victory." Tiny cartridge pleats re- 
lease the fullness of the skirt, joined to the 
fitted bodice ai a low waistline. The 
clever pleats hold in the soft fullness 
of appealing puffed sleeves. The gown 
was selected from I. Magnin, Hollywood 

—or greet it in regal mood in a sophis- 
ticated gown of green and yellow gold 
lame (right), chosen by Myrna Loy, M-G-M 
star, vacationing at the present time. 
The exquisite styling of the gown, also 
selected from I. Magnin, Hollywood, re- 
veals alternating treatmentof thedual-tone 
ame, both in the horizontal-tucked bodice 




For opening day at the Santa Anita Races 
Bette Davis, star of Warners' "Dark Vic- 
tory," chooses this dressmaker ensemble of 
soft rose tweed. Square carved wooden 
buttons close the jacket which tops a long- 
sleeved frock of identical tweed, trimmed 
at the neckline with a matching velvet bow. 
Note that the softly shirred blouse is 
joined to the skirt at a high-curved waist- 
line. Bette's high-crowned rose felt hat 
with badger brush trim is a Galer crea- 
tion. The costume-is completed with shoes 
and bag of brown alligator. This ensemble 
and hat were selected from the French 
rooms of the May Company, Los Angeles 


Lucky the lady who can fol- 
low the sun and escape 
dull wintry days in sport 
clothes such as these. 
Adrian designed Jeanette 
MacDonald's slack ensemble 
(opposite page) for her to 
wear in M-G-M's Technicolor 
production, "Sweethearts." 
Easy fullness distinguishes the 
action sleeves of the black 
linen shirt which buttons to a 
round neckline and tucks into 
the corselet waistline of the 
white linen slacks. Jeanette's 
sombrero is of white baku 
with a black linen bandana 
crown. Her gauntlet gloves, 
striped in red, lend a dash- 
ing color note. Picturesque 
clothes like these give fash- 
ion interest to Palm Springs' 
play spots, such as Smoke 
Tree Ranch, El Mirador, Del 
Tahquiti and The Lone Palm 

For resort wear M-G-M's 
Myrna Loy chooses a casual 
coat of heavy natural linen 
with patch pockets and roomy 
sleeves, designed by Korn- 
handler of Los Angeles. Front 
panels curve at the shoulders, 
the line followed by the 
curved revers. Miss Loy's 
hand-woven green and nat- 
ural straw hat from the Baha- 
mas ties under the chin, 
coolie-fashion, with multicol- 
ored raffia streamers. B e - 
neath, Miss Loy wears a white 
silk jersey frock with front 
panel and sleeves of apple 
green and white print de- 
signed by Dolly Tree (sketch 
above). Ensembles such as 
Miss Loy's are often seen on 
the terrace of the Arrow- 
head Springs Hotel, Cali- 
fornia ' s famous spa 

atf -/((.JtiewA 



Midseason hats put all the emphasis on face value. June Gale and 
Lynn Bari, of 20th Century-Fox's "Samson and the Ladies," pose 
in perfect examples of this trend. Lynn (top) wears the Byron 
"Sweetheart," which makes the most of your mouth. Try a brim 
turned up steeply over a crown leveled off like a kepi and a dra- 
matic veil drawn over all to call attention to your glamorous lips 

June Gale (top, center) models the Roxford "Lucky." To empha- 
size the dimple in your chin, pull on a severe tailleur shaped 
to your head in back. Roxford styles this chic hat with a 
pinched crown smartly stabbed by an antiqued gold dagger 

Lynn Bari also wears the Byron "Duchess" (above, left). It drama- 
tizes your eyes. Experiment with the effect of a brim pulled down 
not too sharply but far enough to cast fascinating shadows over 
your eyes. Note the fur pompon that underscores your coat trim 

June (left) models the Roxford "Show-Off." This hat plays up your 
profile. Outline your face against soft felt, with a high-sweeping 
brim and crushed suede band to match your eyes. These hats may 
be had in a wide variety of colors in the leading department stores 


The smart advance Photoplay Hollywood fashions 
shown on these two pages are available to you at 
many ol the leading department stores throughout the 
U. S. right now. If you will wri'.e to the address given 
below, sending description or clipping of the hat or gar- 
ment, you will be advised by return mail where, in 
your community, the item or items may be purchased. 
These hats and garments come in all sizes and in all 
popular shades. Address your letter to — 

Jean Davidson, Fashion Secretary, 

Photoplay Magazine, 122 East 42nd St., New York, 

New York 





Jean Rogers, petite 20th Cen- 
tury-Fox player who will soon ap- 
pear in "Inside Story," models 
three stunning Jeanne Barrie* 
evening gowns that you will find 
in the leading department stores 
throughout the country. You will 
look as fragile as a Dresden doll 
in this empire gown of cyclamen 
chiffon (above). The softly 
draped bodice, caught with an 
antique jeweled brooch, is of 
cyclamen, violet and orchid 

Gold glitters on the v/ide suede 
corselet that joins the sunburst 
pleated skirt to the picturesque 
"V" neck, short-sleeved blouse 
of Jean's Schiaparelli blue crepe 
dinner gown (above, center) 


* Res V. S. Pal. Off. 

A sparkling rhinestone girdle 
defines the waistline of Jean's 
black chiffon dinner dress with 
short, full sleeves and deep 
"V" neckline (above and left). 
These lovely holiday gowns 
may be purchased in all sizes 
and a wide variety of colors 





A heavy crepe frock, topped by a 
smart fur coat, is an essential 
wardrobe requisite for wear this 
month. Mary Carlisle chooses 
such an outfit in the chic color 
contrast of violet and black. Her 
crepe dress, in two shades of vio- 
let (the blouse is of lighter hue), is 
worn with a seven-eighth length 
black coney fur coat which boasts 
broad shoulders and a collarless 
neckline. Mary's eight -button 
gloves are of deep violet — her 
bag, shoes and hat, cunningly con- 
trived of felt and velvet, are of 
black. Edith Head designed 
Mary's dress for her to wear in 
Paramount's "Say It In French" 






The second in a series of the 
frankest answers film stars ever 
gave to a set of questions. Photo- 
play dared thevt to tell what is in 
their hearts. The dare was taken 


IS Hollywood so busy it does not have to con- 
sider the world outside studio gates? Is 
Hollywood so ambitious it will not stop to 
contemplate problems which have nothing to do 
with picture-making but everything to do with 
modern social welfare? Is Hollywood so ego- 
tistical it cannot look beyond self to a broader 
horizon of affairs political, economic and re- 

In the following article, the second of two 
setting forth the results of a remarkable dare 
which Photoplay made to Hollywood, is to be 
found answer to each of these questions. 

"We dare you, Hollywood," Photoplay said, 
"to forget motion pictures and tell us what you 
think about the fundamental problems of life 
as it is being lived today!" 

Hollywood accepted the challenge. Last 
month, through means of a questionnaire cir- 
culated by Photoplay among a large and im- 
portant percentage of the four hundred stars 
and other players under contract to the various 
studios, and upon the promise of anonymity, it 
told frankly and honestly what it thought about 
such problems as romance after marriage, chas- 
tity before marriage, love adjustments of all 

This month, through the same means, it speaks 
its mind with equal forthrightness concerning 
child rearing, sterilization, social theories, world 
affairs and religion. And, as you shall see, 
Hollywood neither is so busy, so ambitious nor 
so egotistical that it cannot use its head actively 
and for the most part, wisely. . . . 

Photoplay's first question in this second 
phase of its inquiry was: ''Do you, or will you, 
refuse to have children because of an unstable 
future 9 " 

In answer to this, fifty-one per cent of the 
women said no — several of them a vehement no, 
their decision definitely colored by their re- 
ligious scruples against birth control for any 

"This is just an excuse to practice birth con- 

trol," one actress wrote, flatly. "I believe that 
parents with children usually can find ways to 
provide for and take care of them." 

"I should take a chance on the Lord providing 
for my children — aided, of course, by myself and 
my husband," said another young matron. 

"If everyone waited for conditions to improve 
before having children, the human race would 
die out. There always has been something 
wrong with the world!" said a third feminine 
star in support of having children regardless of 
political and economic hazards. 

On the other hand, "Yes, I believe it is un- 
fair to bring children into the world unless there 
is a better prospect than at present that they 
shall survive. Poor little things, they don't ask 
to be born!" declared one of the feminine ad- 
vocates of birth control because of a doubtful 

And, "I refuse to produce cannon fodder!" 
wrote another, an important star, married but 

Of the women refusing to have children under 
these circumstances, two-thirds were married. 
Of those in favor of having children, regardless, 
two -thirds were unmarried. 

A considerably larger per cent of the men — 
eighty-four per cent — believed this modern 
world safe for children. 

One wrote: "Our ancestors didn't worry about 
every little thing!" 

"We are getting too picayunish about this and 
that, these days. I say go ahead, have your 
families, do the best you can by "em and let 
nature take its course!" declared another. A 
large majority of men belonging to this school 
of thought were unmarried. 

Of the sixteen per cent refusing to have chil- 
dren because of unsettled conditions, all were 
married and many of them gave danger of fu- 
ture wars as the reason for their stand. 

"I was a soldier. I wouldn't raise a kid to be 
the same for all the tea in China!" announced 
one, vehemently. 

r hotoplay's second question was: "Do you ad- 
vocate sterilization of mentally unfit persons?" 

To this, eighty-seven and one-half per cent 
of the women and ninety-four per cent of the 
men said yes. 

"Certainly I believe in it!" wrote one feminine 
starlet, still in her 'teens. "My father was a 
disabled American War veteran and most of my 
life has been spent near army hospitals, where 
the need for stopping perpetuation of hereditary 
disease of body and mind cries out on every 

Emphatically, yes!" said another. "This talk 
about violation of personal rights is a narrow 
and selfish attitude which should have gone out 
with witchcraft and snake doctors." 


One feminine dissenter said, however, that 
such is the miracle of modern medicine that 
the unfit person of today may be cured tomor- 

While endorsing sterilization in greater ma- 
jority than the women, the male supporters 
were, in the main, pretty cautious about it. 

"Yes, but with strong legal safeguards." said 
one young star. 

"Yes, but only when there is absolutely no 
chance for improvement." was the vote of an- 

Most of the small percentage of men who de- 
clared themselves against such a measure 5aid 
they thought it too final ar.d irrevocable to be 
arbitrarily enforced upon socie - 
examination before instead, and pre- 
vention of marriage among the physically and 
mentally unfit -1 " several suggested. 

Turning, then, to once 

upon a time the ccr. - - of 
I Cot- • 




"Wrong V/ay" Doug lost his direc- 
tion on another path, only to discover 
that all roads lead to film tow n 


He flies to California and lands in Dub- 
lin. He flies toward Dublin, across the 
briny deep, and lands smack on a moving- 
picture lot in Hollywood. 

He puts a couple of candy bars and a five-cent 
package of cookies into the pockets of his leather 
jacket, gets into his silver ship and makes a 
three-point landing on the silver screen. 

He's the first important Hollywood star to 
crash the movies in a plane. And though he's 
making his first — and maybe his only picture — 
it is probable he will prove a box-office star. 

Doug Corrigan had three ambitions when he 
was a little boy. One was to be a pitcher for 
one of the major league teams. Another was to 
be a locomotive engineer. And the third was 
to become a moving-picture actor. 

He lost his direction on all three of these 
paths, got lost in the clouds and went the wrong 
way. But he got to Hollywood just the same. 
He didn't realize that all roads lead to Holly- 

He fell and broke a leg when he was a child 
in San Antonio, Texas. He went to work selling 
papers shortly after that. His father had de- 
serted him and his mother, his little brother and 
sister and Doug had to help out, so there wasn't 
much time for playing baseball. 

He learned, in a desolate moment, that a man 
had to be a fireman and shovel coal into the 
engine for hours at a time before he could be- 
come a railroad engineer. He realized he could 
never do work like that. He was too slight. His 
leg bothered him too much. And he had no 
ambition to throw coal on a fire so many hours 
a day. So he gave up the idea of becoming an 

His mother kept a roominghouse in San An- 
tonio, but after the war conditions were bad. 
It was hard to make a living keeping roomers. 
So she went to Los Angeles with her children, 
hoping to find conditions better there. 

Doug had turned his face toward a moving- 
picture career even before he arrived in Holly- 

He had seen moving pictures, quite a few of 
them, in the days before his father left. And 
he had one big shining idol. Douglas Fairbanks, 

Doug Corrigan's real name was Clyde Corri- 
gan. He was named for his father. He changed 
his name after he learned that his father would 
never come back. 

"My mother never quite forgave my father," 
he said. "She didn't even want to hear his name 
mentioned. My name was the same as his and, 
naturally, every time she heard my name, she 
thought of him. It was she who decided I must 
change my name." 

Doug thought of a lot of names, but when his 

mother casually mentioned Douglas Fairbanks, 

the boy didn't have to hesitate any longer. He's 

(Continued on page 86) 

The world called Doug a hero. U 
saw in him the tame rare qualities 
— shyness, resolve, courage — that 
had molded his idol, Lindbergh 



$1,000,000 for one picture was 

the offer made to America's great- 

est hero, who accepted, and then — 


SUPPOSE you were in your twenties — and 
in Hollywood. 
You had never acted before — not even in 
a high-school drama. You had not had so much 
as a screen test. You didn't know whether you'd 
photograph. You didn't know whether you'd 
be able to act at all. You already had a career 
in which you were interested and in which you 
seemed on your way to success. 

And then they pushed it into your hands. A 
contract. A very fat contract. To do one pic- 
ture for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Corporation. 

To make it even more enticing, the picture 
was to be a history of the industry you had 
turned to for your career. 

For this one picture, you were to receive one 
cool million dollars in cash and ten per cent of 
the gross receipts of the film. 
Would you sign the contract? 
Easy, now. This is no fantasy invented to 
amuse you. It's the story of an incident that 
really happened. It's the story of a lank, blond- 
haired young man and a moving-picture con- 
tract. If the young man signed the contract, he 
became worth more than one million dollars. 

That young man was Colonel Charles Augus- 
tus Lindbergh, freshly returned from his epochal 
New York-to-Paris flight and in Hollywood, at 
the moment, on his good-will trip around the 
United States. 

Young Lindbergh did what, I think, you also 
would have done. 

He signed the contract. It was a contract with 
William Randolph Hearst to make a picture of 
aviation from its beginning down to his historic 
transatlantic hop. 

While in Los Angeles, Lindbergh was the 
guest of the movie colony at Hollywood. Be- 
cause of his tremendous popularity, numerous 
offers to enter the movies were made to him. 
He rejected all of them, until Mr. Hearst of- 
fered him this million-dollar contract to do an 
aviation spectacle for M-G-M. 

Lindbergh signed that contract. But, though 
he had committed himself in writing to make the 
picture, it was never made. Had it been, Amer- 
ica's hero might, conceivably, have become, 
overnight, the greatest box-office attraction in 
the history of the film industry. And Charles 
Lindbergh's whole future might have been 
drastically changed. 

Instead . . . but here is what happened. 

On Lindbergh's return to New York, his 

friends learned what he had done. They felt he 

was making a mistake by branching away from 

his chosen career — aviation. Though Lindbergh 

had signed the picture contract without con- 
sulting his advisors, he was stubborn about it. 
He refused to give up his plans; to attempt to 
break his contract. 

He was determined to make the picture and 
his advisors could do nothing with him. 

That is where I was brought into the situa- 
tion. I had met "Slim" shortly after his return 
from Paris while I was acting as Commanding 
Officer of the First Pursuit Group stationed at 
Selfridge Field, Mt. Clemens, Michigan. 

I had led a squadron of twenty-four army 
pursuit planes to Boiling Field to escort Lind- 
bergh and his Spirit of St. Louis to New York 
City for the huge "welcome back" demonstra- 
tion there. 

Since that meeting we had become rather 
(Continued on page 85) 

"Lindy" had just made his 
epochal flight in "The Spirit of 
St. Louis" (above). The movies 
wanted him. He turned down 
numerous offers until . . . 
Right, with Louis B. Mayer, 
whose studio planned a film 
on the history of aviation 





Murder will out — and so a thrilling mystery 
reaches a climax of revenge and romance 


author of "The Case of the Shoplifter's Shoe" 

I WAS plunged into the mysterious case of 
the Hollywood scandal when the secretary 
to Lawyer William Foley was injured in a 
hit-and-run accident. As Mr. Foley's new sec- 
retary, my first duty was to execute a secret 
legal contract between talent promoter Frank 
G. Padgham and one Carter Wright; my second, 
to deliver the contract that evening to an ad- 
dress where Foley and Padgham would meet 

I found the house unlocked. There was no 

answer to my "hello." As I stepped into the 

hall I became conscious of a thumping noise 

up-stairs. Investigation proved that it was Bruce 

Eaton, my favorite movie star, bound and 

gagged. Quickly, I released him. On the pre- 

f Retting drinks to steady our nerves, he 

.> pea red. 

In reaching for my brief case, I found a key 

which had apparently fallen from Brucc's coat. 

Pocketing it, I started for the stairs. It was 

then that I discovered a man sitting at a desk, 

his head slumped over. He was — dead! 

Suddenly, without warning, every light in the 
house went out. 

I groped for the stairs. A bell shattered the 

Mr. Foley and Frank Padgham, I 

it with relief. But it was Padgham — 

alone I explained what had happened — about 

the dead man and the lights. I didn't tell him 

about Bruce Eaton, however. Padgham sug- 

i that I wait in his car while he investi- 

Halfway to the car I remembered the 

brief ease which I had propped against the wall 

when I opened the door to Padgham. I ran 

back and got it. 

At the corner drugstore I tried to telephone 
n H<- wasn't listed in the phone book, 
-" I called his agency. I Impressed upon them 
the Importance "f Bruce Eaton's calling me in 
the morning at the law office of William Foley. 
As I was returning to the house, an automo- 
bile swung around the corner. It was Mr Foley. 
Hurriedly, I climbed into the car and told him 
my experience. He instructed me to go back 
to the drugstore and ask the clerk to notify po- 
lice headquarters. 

When I returned, I handed the brief case to 
Foley. He opened it, then looked at me with 
questioning eyes. 

The brief case was empty. 

MORNING papers brought the first definite in- 
formation about what had actually happened. 
Carter Wright, chauffeur to Charles Temmler, 
had been found murdered in the Temmler home. 
I was the subject of an intensive search. When 
I arrived at the office I discovered that my desk 
had been rifled and my notebook taken. Be- 
fore I could tell Mr. Foley, Frank Padgham 
came in and, while he was closeted with Mr. 
Foley, Bruce Eaton called. We made a luncheon 
appointment, at which time I was to return the 
property I had found. 

During the morning, a woman in the late for- 
ties came sailing into the office and announced 
herself as Mrs. Charles Temmler. She ex- 
plained that Carter Wright had stolen a key to 
a safe-deposit box at Las Almiras in which her 
husband had legal papers. It was important for 
her to get the contents of that box. It was 
registered in such a way that whoever had the 
key had access to the box. She wanted Foley 
to get the key from the coroner. He refused, 
of course, and Mrs. Temmler left in high dudg- 
eon. It was then that I realized the full im- 
portance of the key that I had found the previ- 
ous night. 

When I met Bruce Eaton, he apologized for 
his behavior of the previous evening and then 
asked abruptly, "How about that property of 
mine? You have it?" I started to hand the key 
to him and then, in a bantering tone, I told him 
he would have to identify it. To my amazement, 
it wasn't the key he asked for, but — his stickpin! 

During luncheon Bruce told me the whole 
story of his part in the previous night's affairs. 
Woodley Page, an old friend of his, was being 
blackmailed. Charles Temmler had obtained 
-sion of some incriminating letters; his 
chauffeur, Carter Wright, had stolen them; 
Frank Padgham had been delegated to get them 
back: Bruce had gone to the Temmler house to 
protect the interests of his friend; there I had 


found him, the victim of an unknown assailant. 

When he had finished, I pushed the key across 
to him and told him about the lockbox. A 
shadow fell across the table — it was the detec- 
tive who had interrogated me in such a suspi- 
cious manner during my first day in the office. 
He reached for the key but Bruce held fast. A 
scene ensued. I rushed for the phone to tell 
Mr. Foley of this latest encounter. 

When I returned, the detective was gone and 
Bruce suggested that we leave immediately for 
Las Almiras. There was a lone cashier in the 
bank and Bruce had no difficulty in getting ac- 
cess to the box. After what seemed an inter- 
minable period, 1 heard him slam shut the door 
of the box. At that moment a car slid to the 
curb — a police car. I called to Bruce to hurry. 
The banker became suspicious and I saw hiir. 
reach for his gun. As Bruce rushed out, the 
officers were rounding the corner. The cashier 
pulled the trigger but the jar of the recoil jerked 
the gun from his hand. As he stopped to pick 


"You lie," Mrs. Temmler screamed and, jerking herself free of the officer who was holding her, made a wild rush for the door 

it up, I grabbed the letters and dropped them 
into a lunchbox on the counter. 

The officers poured through the door. "The 
jig's up," the sheriff said. 

DRUCE EATON stepped forward and said, "I'll 
take the entire responsibility for this." 

The man with the big hat answered, "Oh, you 
will, will you?" 

"Yes, this young woman has nothing to do 
with it." 

The bank cashier said, "Don't let them fool 
you. It's a well-planned holdup. They put on 
the act together and. . . ." 

One of the city officers interrupted, "Good 
Lord, that's Bruce Eaton, the actor!" 

"Actor nothing," the bank cashier protested. 
"They tried to hold me up. That man's no more 
Bruce Eaton than I am. He's a stick-up artist. 
If they hadn't jerked the gun out of my hand, 
I'd have had them. But one of them knocked 
the gun out and. . . ." 

One of the city officers laughed an interrup- 
tion, "Bruce Eaton isn't going around sticking 
up banks." 

"I tell you they tried to stick me up," the 
cashier protested, doggedly. '"This man walked 
into the bank and, while I was waiting on him, 
this woman came in and stood at the counter. 
I asked him if she was with him and he said 
he'd never seen her before. Then when you 
gentlemen drove up in your car, she started 
yelling at him and ran around behind the coun- 
ter. I figured she was handing him a gun. I 
knew right then it was a stick-up and yelled 
at them to stop. She kept right on coming 
and. . . ." 

The sheriffs cold eyes fastened mine in cyni- 
cal appraisal. "How about it?" he asked. 

I said, indignantly. "I was simply trying to 
get the man's autograph. You can imagine my 
surprise! I dropped in here to try and cash a 
check. I noticed someone was back in the vault 
with the cashier. Then I suddenly realized 

who it was. Do you think I'd pass up an oppor- 
tunity like that? Why, when I go back and tell 
my roommate about having been in a country 
bank at the same time Bruce Eaton was there, 
her eyes will stick out a foot. Naturally, I 
wanted his autograph. I felt, under the circum- 
stances, he wouldn't hesitate about giving it to 

The officers exchanged dubious glances. I 
could see that the cashier's excitability and his 
hysterical gunplay were putting him on a spot. 

Bruce Eaton said, calmly, "Well, it's been 
rather an exciting experience, Miss . . . what's 
your name?" 

"Miss Bell," I said, "Claire Bell." 

"It's been quite an experience, - ' he said, smil- 
ing. "I've had autograph hunters pursue me 
before, but never under quite such unusual cir- 
cumstances. Perhaps, if you're going my way, 
you'd care to accept a lift back to Los 

"I'd be delighted," I told him. 

(Continued on page 17) 



Each year Hollywood watchrs for PHOTOPLAY'S 
Gold Medal Award. Once again our readers 
are invited to select the winner. Vote now! 

THIS is the nineteenth time we have asked 
our readers to vote for "The Best Picture 
of the Year." We know you will vote with 
your usual enthusiasm and judgment for the 
picture produced during 1938 which, to your 
mind, had the most superb story, casting, direc- 
tion, acting and photography. We will then 
present to the studio which produced that film 
the most distinguished award in the motion-pic- 
ture business, Photoplay's Gold Medal. 

Despite the acrimonious controversy that has 
raged this year about pictures and picture per- 
sonalities, no one can honestly say that the stu- 
dios, particularly in the last six months, have not 
earned the right to say in truth, "Motion Pic- 
tures Are Your Best Entertainment." It is well 
to remember, however, that you, the public, are 
judge of what is a good picture. Here is a way 
to register your opinion . . . Do you want to 
cry at the movies? Do you want to smile and 
forget there might be a world in which laughter 
comes but seldom? Do you want homespun 
stories that dramatize the daily lives of us all 
... or do you want high-spirited tales of 
knights in shining armor toting off their lady 
in ;i shower of arrows? Do you want 
• of hurricane, fire, flood and wind to sweep 
you off your feet? Do you want musical comc- 
opera, dancing delights or crime stories? 
All these sou have had this past year. If you 
■ r the picture you liked m 1033, the pro- 
will know what type of picture to make 
in IS 

in remember all the pictures he 
saw during the past year, we list below some of 
the outstandini e, does not 

permit us to list all the fine pictures, so. if your 
particular favorite is not here, vote for it any- 

Therc ire no rules to this contest You either 
fill out the ballot printed here for youi 
venience. or write your choice on a Blip of paper 
and send it to the Gold Medal Editor, Photo- 
play. 122 East 12nd St . New York City, 
and ' arefully counted, the picture 

that wins the most I I 

This shining medal (a facsimile of which ap- 
sbove) i^ a symbol of achievement, and 

as such is vied f"i by all the Hollywood studios. 

There la no board of Judges You are the judge 

and the jury What UNU the be: t picture of 
? You know. Vote for it! 






































1 936 







Alexander's Rag- 

Letter of Introduction 

time Band 

Lord Jeff 

Adventures of 

Love and Hisses 

Marco Polo, The 

Love Finds Andy 

Adventures of Robin 


Hood, The 

Mad About Music 

Adventures of Tom 

Mad Miss Manton 

Sawyer, The 



Man to Remember, 

Amazing Dr. Clitter- 


house. The 

Marie Antoinette 

Angels with Dirty 

Men with Wings 


Merrily We Live 

Arkansas Traveler 

Of Human Hearts 


Rage of Paris, The 

Bluebeard's Eighth 

Rebecca of Sunny- 


brook Farm 

Boy Meets Girl 

Room Service 

Boys' Town 

Shopworn Angel, 

Bringing Up Baby 


Brother Rat 

Sing, You Sinners 

Buccaneer, The 

Sisters, The 


Slight Case of 

Citadel, The 

Murder, A 

Cowboy and the 

Snow White and the 

Lady, The 

Seven Dwarfs 

Crime School 


Crowd Roars, The 

Submarine Patrol 

Dawn Patrol 



Test Pilot 

Four Daughters 

Texans, The 

Goldwyn Follies, 

That Certain Age 


Three Loves Has 

Girl of the Golden 


West, The 

Three Comrades 

Gunga Din 

Too Hot to Handle 

Happy Landing 

Toy V/ife, The 

Having Wonderful 

Valley of the Giants 


Vivacious Lady 


Wells Fargo 

If I Were King 

White Banners 

In Old Chicago 

Yank at Oxford, A 


You Can't Take It 

Joy of Living 

with You 

Just Around the 

Young in Heart, The 


Yellow Jack 






In my opinion the picture named below is the 
best motion-picture production released in 1938 




Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 

(Continued from page 43) 

Paging Mr. Chamberlain 

DON'T believe all the Hollywood feuds 
exist only between the fair sex; oh. no. 
Two of movies' huskiest villains have 
maintained a pout at one another since 
the days when Barton MacLane and 
Charlie Bickford were actors on Broad- 

Fortunately, the two never came into 
contact until the Universal picture, 
"The Storm" (and what a fitting title), 
and then things happened. 

The script called for a fight and each 
husky he-man threatened to annihilate 
the other. 

The publicity boys looked forward 
gleefully to the fracas as a great source 
of ballyhoo, but the studio itself, a little 
alarmed at the enmity, feared trouble. 
So the scene was called for a Sunday 

Vhitney; right, Irene 
ica dance-conscious 

Mystery of the Month 

ALL of a sudden, and out of a very cle; 
sky, Hollywood husbands are behavii 
themselves for the cameramen. Hithe. 
to, husbands of famous stars did a quit 
fade-out when the boys, headed by oij 
own Hymie Fink, would approach f J 

Then came a swanky premiere. Fii ] 
to appear was Myrna Loy with her p 
ducer-husband. Arthur Hornblow. 

"Won't you pose with Miss Loy 
once?" the cameraboys asked, me 
as a routine question. 

But imagine their amazement v , 
Mr. Hornblow very readily agreec 
walked back to his car. holding ' 
Loy's arm, so the boys could get 
view of their walking in. 

In fact, one photographer was sc 
prised he forgot to load his camera 
was almost too overcome to shoo 
picture when Mr. Hornblow offer* 
make the walk from car to th 
entrance all over again. 

Encouraged, the boys next trie 
Griffin, husband of Irene Dunn' 
almost always eludes the photogr; 

To their complete amanemer. 
Griffin consented, graciously posi 
the boys several times. 

Courage mounting still furthc 
photographers decided to crac 
hardest problem of all — Dr. Joel 
man with his wife, Claudette C 
Having permitted Dr. Pressman t 
the theater without asking for p 
they now trudged down the aisle j 

"Sure," he smiled, "go ahead 

It was almost too much, 
the cameraboys are wonderi 
husbands have decided to ru 
new leaf, once and for ali, o 
it was just a good night for hT 

Every Dog Has His Day 

nHEN it came to selecting a dog to play 
with her in "Dark Victory." Bette Davis 
went to the bat for her favorite pooch — 
a setter belonging to her sister — not 
one of the show dogs, you understand, 
but one her sister claims is about the 
scrubbiest dog in the kennels. And since 
the canine has never worked before a 
camera, everyone is looking for some 
fun — except Bette's sister! 

Russell Touch on a Resolution 

ROSALIND RUSSELL, whose English- 
made film, "The Citadel." is a great hit. 
is still groggy over the British methods 
of movie-making. 

"After Hollywood, where one talks 
pictures twenty-four solid hours in a 
day and to the exclusion of all else, I 
found the subject strangely ignored 
after working hours," she says. 

" T wonder if I did that scene just 
right today?' I asked an English co- 
worker one night at dinner. 

" 'Oh. by the way,' he answered, "what 
about the tennis matches at Wimbledon 
next week? You're going, aren't you?' 

"At first, I tried to talk shop after 
hours to everyone on the set and got in 
return discussions of English gardens in 
the spring or the possibility of war. So 
I finally gave up and. strangely enough, 
most of my physical tiredness and nerv- 
ous tension disappeared. 

"I've returned with a new resolution: 
no talking shop after working hours. 
Not even to myself. I don't care how 
lonely I get" 

to 1 


was off to" 


At Kansas Cit 
Doug (about 
"Well, the old handle 

It was still on. in modifie 
Grant hit New York and tf 
shores of England. So Doug 
bet. By the way, guess what 
brought back to Phyllis Brooks, his 
and only girl friend. 

Phyllis received several sets of old 
English glass for her bar and some 
lovely brasses for her fireplace. And, 
what's more, she was more pleased than 
if Cary had brought back a diamond 
mine. Whatever are these modern girls 
coming to? 

Man the Boards, John 

No actor who works with him ever 
sees Barrymore's eyes." a director de- 
clared. "They are always fastened on 
that dialogue blackboard from which 
John reads his lines. He reads them 
with more expression in words and 
eyes, with more freshness and spontan- 
eity than any other actor on the set. I 
don't care who it is. 

"He's the envy of every actor who 
works with him. Apparently he does 
less to prepare himself for the role than 
anyone in Hollywood. And always ends 
up with the most finished performance. 

"That is being an actor in every sense 
of a word, even if the word is written 
on a blackboard. In fact. I'm convinced 
what this town needs are more black- 
board readers like John Barrymore." 





ou re going 
do last year 
'you were too busy 
11 about them. And 
f to your heart, of course, 
ks and your personality, 
stars feel just the same way. 
aking beauty resolutions for the 
These resolutions should be yours, 
they are. 
tta Young was very firm about her 
ty resolution. She said, "I resolve not to 
fear my hair up no matter how many other 
women do so or how many hats are made for 
it. I'm going to stick with the hair-do that 
looks best on me because I think that the really 
chic woman is the one who studies her personal 
requirements and enhances them." 

Hollywood is about evenly divided on the 
subject of hair up or down. Many of the stars 
compromise by wearing the long bob during the 
mg it high for evening. Gloria Stuart, 
for one, likes the "upped" hair-do and finds it 
most becoming. Her beauty resolution con- 
cerns it. too, because she thinks that earrings 
are ah ressity to take away that "bare- 

faced" look, so she's going to increase her col- 
lection of earrings. 

Lor i tement that the smart woman is 

the one who sticks to her type at all times was 
borne out by several other stars, too. Barbara 
Stanwyck is one who says she won't be swayed 
by the current craze for furbelows. "I'm the 
tailored type. I can't wear anything fancy. I 
just look overdre tsed and I feel silly, so all my 
dothea arc going to be very simple and plain. 
The only fad that I do yield to is the fad tot 
tricky jewelry. I love costume jewelry, but I 
shall show restraint even in that. One interest- 
ing piece is enough. If I'm wearing a tailored 


A pioneering spirit is indicated by 
Anne Shirley (above) in her New 
Year's resolution, while Gale Page 
jabove, right) has an age-old prob- 
lem to conquer. Costume pictures 
taught Olivia de Havilland (right) 
a lesson she'll profit by next year 

suit, which I generally am, I wear a simple lapel 
ornament; or a lovely necklace with an evening 

Rosemary Lane has decided also that she will 
not be swayed by the decrees of fashion. "If 
they aren't becoming to me, and I feel that I 
don't do justice to them, I'm not going to take 
them up. I'm just going to be honest and natu- 
ral and, at all times, myself. But don't get me 
wrong — I'm going to give every one of the new 
whimsies a try, to see if they will be becoming 
on me. But if they're not, then nothing doing." 

Anne Shirley's going to try everything new, 

At least once a month she's going to try a 
new make-up or hair-do because she feels that 
only by experimenting can a person discover 
what's most becoming to her. 

"From past experience I know better than to 
make the kind of resolution that ties me down 
to a daily task," said Joan Blondell, when I 
asked her about her resolutions, "because I'm 
thoroughly unhappy until I break it. But I do 
resolve to change my personality several times 
during the coming year. To me, the whole se- 
cret of beauty is change. A new appearance 
may not be a vast improvement over the old, but 
at least it's different and it buoys up the spirif. 
A girl who neglects changing her personality 
gets stale mentally as well as physically. So 
I'm going to vary my hair style, my type of 
make-up, nail polish, perfume. I'm even going 
to change my toothpaste and mouth wash so I'll 
start the day with a completely different taste in 
my mouth." 

Joan Bennett and Gloria Stuart, setring a 1939 high for blonde 
beauty, are trying out a new form of charm insurance — a 
beauty resolutions policy that pays heavy male dividends 

If you get bored with yourself at times, let 
your resolution be to do something about it. 
Experiment with new makeups, change your 
hair style and make yourself over into a new 

A new make-up is even better for your morale 
than a new hat, so take yourself in hand because 
you can be just exactly whatever you want to 
be— if you'll just take the time and the trouble. 

Ginger Rogers doesn't overlook the impor- 
tance of perfume in her beauty resolutions. "I 
like delicate and elusive fragrances rather than 
heavy musty odors and I*m going to collect a 
lot of different scents this year. I already ha /e 
several perfumes but I don't think you can 
have too many because you should vary your 
perfume with your clothes and your mood of 
the moment."' 

Anita Louise is going to form the habit of 
spraying her hair with fragrance for evening, 
because she's found that this method cf apply- 
ing perfume is the most lasting and the least 

"Malted milk three times a day," sighed Joan 
Fontaine when I approached her. 

"I'm practically wasting away to a shadow, 
and that's my way of gaining weight. I'm so 
busy remembering to drink it that that's prob- 
ably the only resolution I'll find time to keep." 

D \LE PAGE is another girl who considers 
beauty quite a "weighty" matter. I know 
that's bad, but I really couldn't skip it. 

"I resolve this year," said Gale with grim de- 
termination in her voice, "to keep a daily watch 
on my weight and do something about it the 
minute the scales tip an ounce in the wrong 

When Gale started her movie career the first 
order she received was to reduce because of the 
camera's deviltry in adding poundage. So she 
did it by stringent diet and exercise. All very- 
well and good, but, when she made a trip to 
Chicago, she put all the weight back on and 
had to go through the same stringent routine 
when she returned to Hollywood. 

That is the reason, she confessed, for the grim 
determination when she says, "Now I know a 
daily morning weighing is the only way to keep 
painlessly slim. And. so help me, the minute I'm 
over one hundred and fifteen pounds. I'll go on 
a buttermilk diet until I'm back to my standard." 

Irene Dunne's fondness for driving in open 

cars all year round brought on her 1939 beauty 
resolution. "I resolve to do something definite 
about the depredations of the wind this year," 
she told me. "I'm going to use a moist founda - 
tion for make-up and when I come home from 
a ride I'm going to take off all my make-up 
with a liquid cleanser and then use a softening 

"And I'm not going to forget to wear glasses 
in the car and bathe my eyes when I come out 
of the wind to prevent them from becoming 
bloodshot. I'm going to protect myself from 
overexposure to the wind." 

A good tip for you to follow, too, because 
winter winds can be most unkind to your skin 
by drying it and causing little lines. 

BETTE DAVIS realizes that there is great 
beauty in serenity and she determines to relax 
more during the coming year. Ann Sothern, 
too, resolves to achieve the gift of relaxation 
and rid herself of the tenseness that is the usual 
result of motion-picture work. Here's how 
she's going to do it: "I will rise half an hour 
earlier and arrive at the studio in a leisurely 
manner. I will not rush home and I'll take a 
short nap before parties, premieres or lengthy 
social events of any kind. Every two weeks I 
will spend the greater part of a day in bed, 
reading or just resting." 

Joan Bennett, too. knows of no better aid to 
fresh, vital appearance than relaxation and 
serenity and she's going to abolish calisthenics 
and find more time to play tennis and badmin- 
ton and go swimming. 

She's going to get a lot of sleep and worry less 
and laugh more, and stay out in the open air 
as much as she possibly can. That, from 
the standpoint of health, as well as beauty, is 
one of the wisest resolutions any woman can 

Penny Singleton says she wants to form the 
habit of using two powders. The blend of two 
shades, one deeper than the other, gives the 
skin a depth of tone and is more lasting. The 
first powder should be the lighter shade and 
the second in a deeper tone, giving warmth 
to the skin. 

Try it and see if you don't get a better effect, 

Both Phyllis Brooks and Olivia de Havilland 
are resolved to improve their walk and their 
posture. "I'm going to study ballet dancing all 

through the coming year." Phyllis said. "My 
mother think's I've too much of an athletic stride 
for the screen. As a matter of fact, she occa- 
sionally refers to it as a lope.' I know this 
would never do when I come to that super- 
scene that's sure to find me descending a marble 
staircase swathed in ermine. So I'm getting 

Olivia's experience in recent period pictures 
which required heavy and cumbersome cos- 
tumes has taught her how necessary' it is to walk 
gracefully and have a correct carriage at all 
times. "In 1939," she said, "I resolve to bicycle 
an hour each day. I bought a bicycle this year 
and was surprised to learn how much cycling 
can do for one, besides being a lot of fun. It's 
my favorite form of exercise and daily cycling 
is the best thing in the world to insure a graceful 
and correct posture at all times. 

"So. no matter how tired I am, every single 
day, for one hour, I'm going to go bicycle riding." 

lO make regular use of a mild beauty mask 
before I go out evenings," resolves Wendy Bar- 
rie. "This is as important for young faces as 
for any because it stimulates and freshens the 
skin for special occasions when one wishes to 
look one's best. 

"And I'm not going to hurry my make-up. 
I'm going to take plenty of time to use a beauty 
mask and be sure that my make-up is on evenly 
and smoothly." 

And we can't forget the importance of using 
a good hand lotion every time you wash your 
hands and of remembering to smooth a soften- 
ing cream into your elbows as consistently as 
you use it on your face. 

Resolve, too, always to wear a fresh make-up. 
Keep some cleansing cream and facial tissues in 
your desk at the office so you won't have to keep 
adding new make-up on top of the old. Try 
always to have a supply of fresh powder puffs 
on hand. 

Soak your fingernails in warm olive oil two or 
three times a week to soften the cuticle and keep 
your nails from splitting. And resolve to brush 
your hair every- single nigh - to keep it soft and 
shining. You'll find that this is definitely a most 
effective compliment-catcher. 

And I hope that 1939 will be thi 
and happiest year you've ever hud: that it will 
bring you new loveliness and ci.arir an i. most 
of all, your heart's desire. 



J: i>f com] 
and fan-lure 

which ii Fink must be a whi/ 

at the shutter. I. to 

n all points of photography 
That short hit about photography advice l>> Mr 
Fink should !>■ department In 

your !■ ih portraits 

and activities of the students at this colle] 
American Indians, the only college for Indians 
in the world. 

I'm positive that any advice from Mr. Fink 
would hi' worth while Why not think it over? 

Incidentally, I'm thinking of enlarging my attic, 

in order to find more room to store away PHOTO- 

whieh I have bought for yi 

Edmund C. Shaw, 

ine College, Bacone, Oklahoma 

t ppr e ciate Reader Sliaw's praise and trust 
he icill be pleased to see the neir department, 
"Maries m Your Home." on Page 10. This will 
be on occasional feature and any camera addict 
should find many new pointers which will be 

P.S. — Mr. Fink is a whi: at the shutter. 


IES, Hedy Lamarr is gorgeous and glamorous, 
but can she act? All she did in "Algiers" was 
look alluring in close-up after close-up and 
certainly that's easy enough with her glorious 
face. Of course, one must admit that she re- 
acted nicely to Charles Boyer's passionate 
glances, hut who wouldn't? No, unless Hedy 
can prove that besides her haunting loveliness 
she can also act. she will be doomed to failure, 
for the public is tired of "glamour girls" and 
their eternal posturings and posings. Dietrich 
it and Garbo's appeal is certainly on the 
wane, so if Miss Lamarr has nothing to offer us 
but her exoticness, she too will fade into obscur- 
ity, for, to be an actress, one must be more than 
just "a thing of beauty." 

Margaret Lemworth. 

New York City. 

■ 'hotoplay announces: beginning with the January issue, prises will 
no longer be awarded for letters appearing on this page. Unfortunately, 
some of our readers have not played fair with us, inasmuch as they have 
submitted and accepted checks for tellers which have won prizes for them 
in other magazines. On the other hand, many of our readers have looked 
upon this as a contest department and for that reason have failed to send 
in their spontaneous and candid opinions concerning the motion- picture 
industry, its stars or pictures. It is our aim to give the public a voice in 
expressing its likes and dislikes concerning this great industry. This is 
your page. We welcome your views. Photoplay reserves the right to use 
gratis the letters submitted in whole or in part, fetters submitted to any 
contest or department appearing in Photoplay become the property of 
the magazine. Contributions will not be returned. Address: Boos and 
Bouquets, Photoplay, 122 East 42nd Street, Mew York, N. Y. 

Hedy Lamarr's next picture will be "I Take 
This Woman" with Spencer Tracy and Walter 
Pidgecm at M-G-M. tlie studio which lent her 
out to Walter Wanger for "Algiers." The direc- 
tor is Frank Borzage, the man who was respon- 
sible for Janet Gaynor's sensational work in 
nth Heaven" in 1927 — the picture, you re- 
call, which really made Miss Gaynor a star. As 
for Miss Lamarr's acting, it is hard to judge from 
one picture. Shall we give the gal a chance'.' 


I'VE long enjoyed your magazine and look upon 
you as a true friend. I am a star's secretary, 
which is why I m u'ully withhold my 

Every year a new crop of fan-mail writ- 
Si Sap i I'm sure that many of them 
a few pointers. Hire they are: please write 
legibly print the name and address if your 
handwriting isn't legible and don't squeeze 
your name and address into one small corner. 
I relief it is to see a typewritten 
turn up' 

• n't write fi\ • Iters, if your 

handwriting isn't legible Please write in ink 
•me a long way and are so pencil- 
red when thej arrive at the studio they are 
practically Illegible 

Please put your address on the letter itself 
and not refer the reader to the envel 

Please write a letter, if possible, and not a 
card. The cards come in with postmarks all 
over the back and front and often it is impos- 

Most Talked-of Comeback of the Year — Lew Ayres'! "Holiday" 
started him on the upgrade; "Cousin Henry" in "Rich Man, 
Poor Girl" added momentum; then — the first of a series of star- 
ring pictures, "Young Dr. Kildare" (above), with Lionel Barrymore 

sible to make out names and addresses because 
of this. 

Please don't ask the star to do you a favor. 
He can't get you a job, nor can he get you into 
the studios to look around, much as he would 
like to help you. Don't pry into his private life, 
tell him all your troubles, or ask for his home 

Most of the mail is very nice and interesting 
and both my employer and myself enjoy reading 
it, but some of it isn't, hence this letter. Thank 
you for your time and trouble. 

Private Secretary, 
Hollywood, Calif. 


OINCE the early "nickelodeon" days, I've been 
an avid moviegoer. I've seen two and sometimes 
three pictures a week. I'm quite in accord with 
the slogan "Motion Pictures Are Your Best En- 
tertainment" — but, now I'm through. When the 
double-feature nuisance came into being, I be- 
gan shopping for my movies, only to find that 
this !;• d either a 5:30 dinner, hurriedly 

eaten (in order to be at the theater by 6: 10), or 
losing a couple of hours' sleep because the sec- 
ond show wasn't out until midnight. Then 

came Bingo, under the various titles of Screeno, 
Bank Night, or what-have-you. That, I could 
avoid and did, but it meant that I often missed 
a picture I very much wanted to see. But now 
an even more deadly menace is rearing its head 
— stage shows, and theater managers have the 
effrontery to tell you (and right in the midst of 
the "Motion Pictures Are Your Best Entertain- 
ment" campaign) that they are trying to bring 
back vaudeville. 

I don't want vaudeville; I don't want Bingo; 
all I want is one good picture an evening. So, 
I'm through until theater owners and managers 
get back to the fundamental purpose of a 
motion-picture theater. 

Gretchen Manning, 

Pittsburgh, Pa. 

This brings to mind another problem — that of 
change of titles. After the studio has exploited 
pictures for montlis under one title, it is confus- 
ing, to say the least, when one keeps looking in 
the newspapers for a picture to come to town, 
only to find out it's been in town the week be- 
fore under another title. Has this bothered 
you? If so, can you think of a solution? 

(Continued on page 75.) 


We Cover the Studios 

(Continued from page 48) 

George Brent, finds she has one year to 
live and spends it spurring him on at 
the expense of her doomed spirits. It's 
the heaviest role Bette has ever at- 
tempted, next to Of Human Bondage." 

We sit on the sidelines with Bette 
while George Brent struggles through 
the opening-day jitters in an all-male 
doctors' scene. After a series of dis- 
heartening breaks before the camera, 
George says, "Excuse me, gentlemen. 
I'm sorry.'' Then he walks across the 
stage and sits in his chair, alone and 
mad at himself. Nobody can help him; 
it's just one of those opening-day things. 
He'll be all right after a while. 

We can't resist asking Bette how about 
her personal future, especially since her 
separation from her husband, Harmon 
Nelson, took place between "The Sis- 
ters" and "Dark Victory.'' 

Very frankly she tells us there's ab- 
solutely no other man and no other in- 
terest unless it's her work. And the 
biggest effect the split-up has had so 
far is a deeper devotion to work. "I 
live it now," says she. 

"And that's no figure of speech." It's 
true. Warners gave Bette Kay Francis' 
gorgeous bungalow, when Kay bowed 
off the lot. So, when the marriage divi- 
sion happened. Bette moved into the 
studio bag and baggage! Now, during 
the filming of "Dark Victory," she eats 
and sleeps there. And the rest of the 
Warner stars are getting the same idea. 
Paul Muni is moving into the studio for 
his next picture and several others, too. 
are following Bette's lead. 

It's a great idea, but we hope it doesn't 
spread over Hollywood. What would 
become of all the swimming pools? 

nND now we will look over the stars in 
the radio studios. With NBC opening a 
brand-new, bigger and better apple- 
green broadcasting studio at Sunset and 
Vine and Columbia's new plant keeping 
the air crackling a block down the 
street, Hollywood is now in radio for 
keeps — and vice versa. 

The air is full of stars and the stars 
are full of — well, call it eloquence. At 
any rate, where one Hollywood program 
failed to return to the ether this season, 
three new ones popped up. The Radio 
scene shifts around quicker than a 
Notre Dame backfield and what do we 
have 1 ? Well— 

For one thing, we have Bill Powell 
running Hollywood Hotel and the best 
news item of the month is that Bill's 
health is standing up under radio per- 
fectly. He likes it: it likes him. His 
friends are urging him to give up mak- 
ing movies entirely, to concentrate on 
radio, have more fun out of life, live to 
a ripe old age and make just about as 
much to put in his piggie-bank. 

Charles Boyer has taken over Tyrone 
Power's dramatic spot on the Woodbury 
Playhouse. What's more, Charles is 
carrying on the Power tradition of or- 
chids for the leading lady each week. 
Gail Patrick, Olivia De Havilland and 
Maureen O'Sullivan have got 'em so far. 
The best remark we ever heard about 
Boyer was a romantic little Radio ex- 
tra's sigh — "That guy." she heaved, "has 
menace in both eyes!" His voice is the 
same way. Better fill up on Charles. 
He leaves the air in a few weeks and 
Ty comes back. 

Bing Crosby's return from Bermuda 
deserves a paragraph. Bing left for the 
island with twenty-five trunks. He came 
back with thirty-eight! He bought every- 
thing in the joint, including British walk- 
ing shorts for his whole band. Now you 

How Well Do You Know Your Hollywood? 

John Payne in "Wings of the Navy" 

TEST your memory of the pictures 
that Photoplay selected as the most 
outstanding of the year 1933. Give 
yourself five points for every one you re- 
member correctly. The score should be 
at least eighty for a seasoned movie- 
goer. Check up on page 82. 

1. Herbert Marshall played a super- 
crook in "Trouble in Paradise." The two 
women in the film were: 

Kay Francis Leila Hyams 

Elizabeth Allan Miriam Hopkins 

2. In "Night After Night" a new star 
was born: 

Katharine Hepburn Mae West 
Barbara Stanwyck Lupe Yelez 

3. Richard Dix was the pioneer in 
"The Conquerors." The wife who helped 

canking business was: 
Ann Harding Loretta Young 

Irene Dunne Diana Wynyard 

4. In "The Animal Kingdom" Leslie 
Howard's wife was played by: 

Nancy Carroll Dorothy Jordan 
Myrna Loy Ruth Chatterton 

5. The De Mille spectacle. ' The Sign 
of the Cross," gave this actress a chance 
as Nero's consort: 

Bette Davis Claudette Colbert 

Elissi Landi Evelyn Brent 

6. "Rasputin and the Empress" fea- 
tured John, Ethel and Lionel Barrymore. 
Which one of these actors played the 


Alexander Kirkland C. Aubrey Smith 
Monte Blue Ralph Morgan 

7. The father in "Cavalcade" »a:: 
Clive Brook Adolphe Menjou 
Ronald Colman Alan Dinehart 

8. The children of Will Rogers in 
' S-ate Fair" were played I 

Lew Ayres Janet Gaynor 

Norman Foster Sally Eilers 

9. The role of M. Topaze in ' Topaze" 
was played by: 

John Barrymore Mouricc Chevalier 
Dick Barthelmess Fredric March 


10. Sweeoings' was 
a disillusioned fa- 
Henry Trovers Lionel Barrymore 
Lewis Stone Henry Stephenson 

11. In "Today We Live," Gary 
Cooper and Franchot Tone were in love 
with this girl during the war: 
Constance BennettMary Brian 
Carole Lombard Joan Crawford 

12. The venal politician who became 
President in Gabriel Over the White 
House" was played by: 

Edmund Lowe Walter Huston 
Clark Gable George Bancroft 

13. In the comedy, Good Bye 
Again," this comedian got his first big 

Hugh Herbert Robert Young 
Jack Oakie Charles Ruggles 

14. You remember S 

"Voltaire," but who was Mme. Pompa- 

Adrienne Ames Norma Shearer 
Marian Nixon Doris Kenyon 

15. "Morning Glory" lifted Katharine 
Hepburn to new heights as the stage- 

• qirl who fell in 
Joel McCrea David Manners 

Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. Cary Grant 

16. The man who got the chance to 
live his life over again in "Turn Back 
the Clock" was played by: 

Lee Tracy Paul Lukas 

Warner Baxter Rod La Rocque 

17. 'Three Cornered Moon" was one 
of th; the screwy family pic- 
tures. Mary Boland was the crackpot 

--• her daLrj- 
Bebe Daniels Claudette Colbert 
June Collyer Constance Cummings 

18. Three of these *e r e 
Charles Laughton's wives in "The Private 
Life of Henry VI 

Binnie Barnes Merle Oberon 
Greta Nissen Wendy Barrie 

men loved Fay Wray. She married Neil 
Hami u -vas: 

Gary Cooper Nick Stuart 

Ricardo Cortex James Dunn 

20. ' Lady for a Day" was about a 
blowzy old apple-selling woman. Apple 

Helen Westley May Robson 

Marie Dressier Louise Dresser 

bhould see 'em — especially Man Mountain 
J. Scott Trotter! On Bing's first return 
program he arrived at the mike wearing 
a vivid map of the Caribbean and the 
Atlantic Ocean for a shirt. It scared 
Bob Burns off to Hawaii, where he's 
vacationing now. 

Lux Radio Theatre, like the brook, 
runs on forever. They have the right 
microphone menu, the best scripts, the 
biggest stars— and C. B. De Mille. C. B., 
incidentally, is casting most of the ra- 
dio steadies in his next epic, "Union Pa- 

We caught the Lux air edition of 
"Seventh Heaven" the other night and 
saw Jean Arthur and Don Ameche run 
over and stick their noses in a piano in 
the middle of the show. How did we 
know a mike was underneath? They 
talked through the piano strings for that 
echo effect you heard. 

ALONG Radio Row, the Hollywood 
Headlines are these: 

Texaco Star Theatre is a solid hit, but 
suave Adolphe Menjou can't help 
truckin' when Jane Frohman sings . . . 
Eddie Cantor's next Deanna Durbin 
may be Betty Jaynes . . . Gracie Allen 
came back from New York with a 
trunkful of screwy hats . . . Claire Tre- 
vor's new husband, Clark Andrews, is 
producing her air show, "Big Town." 
He and Eddie Robinson warble old col- 
lege songs at rehearsal — it's awful . . . 
Fanny Brice is on the war path for peo- 
ple who spell her name "Fannie" . . . 
Every week Frank Morgan and Fanny 
do the Lambeth Walk to a raucous ac- 
companiment by Merideth Wilson's band 
the minute "Good News" goes off the 
air. You miss it, but the audience gets 
a good laugh. . . . 

Joe E. Brown was burned up all last 
fall because his new show came on Sat- 
urday and he couldn't watch his son, 
Joe L., do his football stuff with the 
U.C.L.A. team . . . Frances Langford. 
who's tiny, got ten pounds more fat and 
sassy on her honeymoon, while Jon Hall, 
a moose, faded fro a shadow. He's at 
every Hollywood Hotel rehearsal, be- 
cause they're still very much in love! . . . 

Bob Young and Allan Jones have 
reaped plenty of business for their Bel- 
Air riding stables from those radio 
comedy plugs on "Good News" . . . W. 
C. Fields never takes off his hat or re- 
moves his toothpick during the whole 
"Hit Parade" . . . Grover Jones, the 
movie-writing fellow, is doing the script 
for Rosalind Russell and Jimmy Stewart 
on "Silver Theatre" . . . Jimmie Fidler 
will break a broadcasting record when 
he gossips over both NBC and Colum- 
bia any day now. . . . 

Dorothy Lamour is now third in rec- 
ord playings over the air. The Chase 
and Sanborn hour did it. First is Bing 
Crosby; second. Nelson Eddy . . . Jean 
Hersholt sketches everybody on the 
"Doctor Christian" show . . . Edgar 
Bergen is rhumba-mad. A brave gen- 
tleman, Edgar — he tossed a party the 
other night and invited all his girl 
friends — Andrea Leeds, Anita Louise, 
Nancy Carroll and so forth. Charlie 
McCarthy, by the way. now has a tailor 
working overtime sewing him up a new 
wardrobe for practically any occasion 
you can imagine. . . . 

But the best for the last — The Judge 
Hardy Family will soon be on the air — 
intact — if present plans go through. 
Metro-Goldwyn- Mayer may put Mickey 
Rooney. Lewis Stone. Cecilia Parker and 
all the rest on radio each week with a 
typical Hardy escapade. And how 
would you like that? 


Mama Is in the Movies Now 

pO0< f'l 

. the 

film : .p in for their 

: that 

a honey of a littlr queen, maul 

:u-d tn.pfi i .■ certain 

I who had 

1 ,1 thi- t.ilk, went in 
i\d found bar to bia 

liking So hi told hi In- would like to 

put h r in th 

. ! : ■ 

.•. Ith Daman it, bare 1 

'. like Clin ago and 

,1 also the magi 

in. holds my hand. 

me in the eye, and says: How'd 

in the movies? I'll gel 

\ou in ' I laughed tiv,ht in hi.s fact' and 

I'll n t how droopy poor Bill 

d when I told him I was over five 

and to trj another line." 

Ellen preferred to believe another fel- 

L-e-looking young chap who 

in the movies, too. after a fashion. 

His name was Fred Wallace and he was 

ke-up man. He didn't tell her she 

ought to be in pictures. He said he 

thought he had never met a more 

wholesome-looking girl in his life. The 

time he saw her, he told her he 

would like to take her out. And two or 

three weeks later, he told her he would 

like to marry her. 

This was the type of line which ap- 

d to the girl and, when he proposed 

to her again, she said yes. 

OO the girl who was then Terry Ray 
became Mrs Fred Wallace and a year 
or so later Skipper arrived — he has no 
other name. It was then that she re- 
membered Bill Demarest who had tried 
to prove to her that he was interested 
in her only as a client. She was getting 
pretty tired of sitting around the house, 
BO she decided perhaps there was a place 
for her in the movies. 

Demarest gave her a script to read 
and a few days later she went through 
the terrifying experience of giving an 
audition. "I honestly didn't care much," 
Ellen confesses, "because I couldn't be- 
lieve there was anything I could do ex- 
cept perhaps get on as an extra or some- 
thing. So I didn't take the audition 
seriously and it didn't scare me. I guess 
my mood was the luckiest thing for me 
because they were so impressed they 
signed me up without even making me 
take a screen test." 

And that, briefly and simply, is how 
Terry Hay. who was renamed Ellen 
Drew, went on the salary list of Para- 

They tossed her small morsels at first. 
A bit in "Yours for the Asking," an ex- 
tra part in "The Return of Sophie 
Lang." a few lines and a few gestures in 
Wife " But fantastic re- 
sults were noted. The bit player was 
ing fan mail. And susceptible 
young men from Texas and from Illi- 
from Montreal and from Mi 
writing in. asking for information 
about that pretty girl with the airy 

ihe Paramount ax- 
il d perhaps there ■•■ 
deal more to this Ellen Drew who 
IIO( a chit of a child — and decided 
[Tied to an 
important role in Sing. You Sun 
The reward came in hundreds of ap- 
proving fan letters and warming n ; 

dial i Ellen Drew, it 

ledded, was just the gill to share 

A new Photoplay department — giving 
tips and advice hot from the Holly- 
wood lots — tor a!l amateur movie- 
camera enthusiasts who want to buy, 
make and show their own home movies 


^^LL of a sudden this country has 

j \ become camera-conscious. 
^^^^\ Every time you stick your face 
out of the front door, you are pretty 
certain that your head is going to be 
snipped at the neckline and recorded on 
film for posterity. 

Every day more people are buying 
sound and silent motion-picture cam- 
eras and projectors. Consequently. 
Photoplay proposes to devote space in 
this and future issues for you who are 
taking part in this 16mm industry. 

This month we are reviewing some 
short films, giving you news on equip- 
ment and telling you where you can 
purchase these things. Next time, we 
will give you advice from expert direc- 
tors and cameramen. 

We are lucky in being able to start off 
during a month of plenty, and when 
we say plenty we mean that this month 
is packed with late pictures for 16mm 
which have never been on the market 

First on our list is a football short, 
nicely put together and breathless, a 
Castle Films production, entitled "Foot- 
ball-1938." In this film are action shots 
from all the big games which have been 
played so far and it will be a swell help 
to you in recording games in the future. 
It's in one reel and cheap, too. 

Pathegrams have just released two 
"town studies": one, "Dynamic New 
York," the other, "Historical Washing- 
ton ." Both of these one-reelers are 
beautiful photographic jobs, particu- 
larly the New York film, which sur- 
passes anything we've ever seen Holly- 
wood take of Bagdad On The Subway 
This same company has proven that a 
film can go educational and still keep 
you on the edge "f your seat with their 
one reeler called "Millions of Fish it's 
a study of the sardine industry from 

i to plate These three film 
in both sound and silent edit i 

If you are well stocked on shorts and 

led in getting a very unusual 

picture, have a look at the first full- 

Ipi UCIaA CujUaJI 

length picture made specifically for 
home consumption, "Pinnochio," a 
16mm sound movie made by a fellow 
in Hollywood named Bresler. Bresler's 
second eight reel 16mm is also almost 
finished. It's called "The Return of Rip 
Van Winkle." You'll probably be able 
to get it soon after you read this. 

TOLITICALLY speaking, there is some 
exciting stuff on the market, too. Cas- 
tle Films are releasing a film called 
"Czechoslovakia." Garrison Films have 
just released those splendid films pro- 
duced by Frontier Films, "Heart of 
Spain," which rents for $10; "People of 
the Cumberland," which is $7.50; "China 
Strikes Back," which rents for $10. Gar- 
rison also is releasing for rent the one 
reelers, "Germany Invades Austria," for 
$1.00, and "Austria Vanishes," for $2.00; 
the Gilbert Seldas film, "Towards Un- 
ity," for $1.50. 

The Christmas season is the time to 
stock up on the excellent cartoons 
which are old but good. Eastman Ko- 
dak has the Disney "Silly Symphonies"; 
Gutlohn and Film Exchange, as well as 
Bell and Howell, have a large stock of 
Christmas shorts. All at very reason- 
able rates. Castle has produced a spe- 
cial holiday short called "Christmas 
Cartoon." It's better than the usual run 
of film of this type. 

Winding up this month's releases are 
two more Castle Films, "Sahara," and 
their monthly newsreel, "See No. 6," 
which has fine aviation sequences and 
some shots of lumberjacks in action. 

ItlANY Hollywood cameranien are now 
using the new Cine-Kodak focusing 
finder. It slips inside the camera just 
as a film magazine does and with its 
magnifying eyepiece an exact focus can 
be obtained regardless of lens combina- 
tions used. A new Dust -off Photo 
Brush is just out and is a honey for re- 
moving dust without scratching cam- 
eras, lenses and film. The Fisher Film 
Cement Pen you'll find handy for edit- 
ing film. And have a look at the new 
Wonderlight enlarging bulb for 16mm. 
li ames. 

Cameraman O'Connell, now at work 
on a Warners' Technicolor epic, has de- 
\ iaed an ingenious sun mirror, made of 
a pane of glass backed by black paper. 
It cuts down cloud glare about 65' 
according to exposure nn 

The films mentioned above can be 
bought at department stores or at your 
own camera shop. 

the feminine lead in "If I Were King." 
Following that, so it was hinted to me, 
the girl who handled cash in Chicago 
and sold candy in Hollywood might be 
elevated to full stardom. 

It's enough to scare the living day- 
lights out of a young housewife with a 
three-and-a-half-year-old son — and an 
overwhelming awe of glamorous ladies 
like Merle Oberon and Joan Crawford 
and Myrna Loy. 

LLLEN DREW, who is earning a nice 
three-figured weekly salary and will in 
time leap into the four-figured class, has 
no elaborate home, no swimming pool, 
no tennis court, riding horses. Not even 
her own estate. 

With her husband and Skipper she 
lives in a rented house in Cardi.T Ave- 
nue on the fringe of Beverly Hills with 
two cars — one of which is a battered 
but gay little Ford of 1931 origin— the 
other, a cheap popular make, purchased 
a year ago. 

"How," I asked, "does your husband 
regard your career? Wouldn't he pre- 
fer to have you stay home and run the 

"Heavens," exclaimed Ellen, "where 
do you get the idea I don't run my 
house? I most certainly do — before and 
after studio hours. And sometimes be- 
tween. No, there has never been an 
argument between Fred and myself 
about my being in the movies. We just 
don't discuss it at all. That's safest, 
don't you think? I don't tell him what's 
happened in my studio — and he never 
bothers to tell me what's happened in 
his. He's not jealous of me — and, bless 
his handsome soul, I'm never jealous of 

Did I remember to say that Ellen 
Drew's fine little nose is tiptilted like 
the Maid of Astolat's, that her brown, 
soft hair hangs in seductive ringlets? 
Sometimes — at a quick glance — she has 
a resemblance to Phyllis Brooks. 

She has no preference in literature 
and makes no pretense at being just too, 
too devoted to Baudelaire, Chatterton, 
Edna St. Vincent Millay, Proust or 
Sterne, but she has read a few stories 
bv Edgar Alian Poe and a book entitled 
"David Copperfield" by Charles Dick- 
ens. Ellen likes the light reading in 
magazines or a good modern novel. 

She can't recall a single outstanding 
adventure in all her twenty-four years 
of life. No escapes from near death- 
no threats from irate wooers — not even 
a slip on the ice. It has been an un- 
eventful life with no extraordinary 
hardships. The fact that she had 
stepped out of a candy store into mar- 
riage and motherhood and then driven 
down to an agent and had her naive re- 
quest to be placed in the movies ful- 
filled does not seem eventful to her. 
Nor that within a comparatively short 
time she has leaped from obscure bit 
parts into featured roles with stardom 
poking out an invitation for her to grasp 
— that was the way it was destined, if 
you believe Ellen Drew. 

"You do," I commented for want of 
something better to say, "smoke a great 
many cigarettes, don't you?" 

"Yes," she said. "I guess I do. But 
I never smoke in front of Skipper. And 
Skipper — never smokes in front of me!" 

The young man who had sat quietly, 
looking out upon the waters of the East 
River under our windows, spoke up. 

"Miss Drew," he said with something 
of awe in his voice, "has a grand sense 
of humor. Don't you think?" 



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I AST month your Fashion Editor felt gay and 
frivolous and brought you, instead of her 
^^ m usual fashion letter, a surprise package in 
the form of a Hollywood production which gave 
you, not only fashion high lights, but also a key- 
hole peek into the careers of famous designers. 
This month I am again forsaking my fashion 
letter to add "Part Two" to last month's pro- 
duction, so that I may continue my story of 
outstanding designers who, like Galer-Ains- 
wortfa and Voris, have combined courage and 
Vision to win recognition in the fashions of the 
commercial and motion-picture worlds alike. 
Quiet, Please! Roll 'em! 
Close Shot: Irene of Bullocks-Wilshire — on 
mi admission a career girl "by mistake" — 
her chum decided to go to designing school and 
she just tagged along! Fade Out. 

Fade In: Time — present. Place — Hollywood. 
iw the leading custom designer of the 
but I assure you that is no "mistake." 
To her salon in Bullocks-Wilshire the illus- 
trious flock for the ultimate in chic — Los 
Angeles and Hollywood Blue Bookers, the wives 
and daughters of Hollywood producers and di- 
uch well-known stars as Norma 
Shearer, Carole Lombard. Paulette Goddard, 
Dolores Del Rio, Virginia Bruce. Loretta Young, 
Claudette Colbert, Joan Bennett and so on and 


on. Irene also designs screen clothes for motion 
pictures — her most recent assignment was the 
wardrobe for Virginia Bruce to wear in the 
Hal Roach production, "There Goes My Heart." 

Irene's clothes are individualized by perfec- 
tion of line, subtle color contrast, rich fabrics 
and intricate dressmaker details. They are cos- 
tumes of unassuming elegance! 

This season, Irene features, as usual, her 
famous three-piece suits in plain or contrast 
woolens — classically draped and molded black 
silk jersey frocks — tailored dressmaker dinner 
suits styled of rich brocades and velvets — lus- 
cious feminine evening gowns interpreted in 
souffle, jersey, taffeta, crepe and lame, each 
model scintillating like the perfection and color 
of the jewels that Irene uses for inspiration! 
Fade out. 

CLOSE SHOT: Joseff— who started his costume 
jewelry enterprise with one rhinestone bracelet 
"for rent." Fade out. 

Fade In: Time — present. Place — Hollywood. 
Today Joseff has over a thousand pieces of 
jewelry rented to the studios at one time (and 
thousands more filed away in drawers for im- 
mediate call) and each piece of his own making, 
for Joseff is the creator of the only costume 
jewelry designed and made in Hollywood! 

He works closely with all the studio designers 
In planning distinctive jewelry which corre- 
sponds to the mood of their modern creations 

— he makes authentic reproduc- 
tions for their historic costumes. 
Nearly all the costume jewelry 
that flashes from the screen is 
rightfully credited to Joseff. 

He also creates jewelry for the 
personal wardrobes of such fa- 
mous stars as Carole Lombard, 
Myrna Loy, Alice Faye, Norma 
Shearer, Jeanette MacDonald, 
Janet Gaynor, Constance Bennett 
and many others. 

This season he has made a real- 
ity of a long-cherished ambition! 
For the first time, he has repro- 
duced his cinema jewels and 
offered them to the public. (You 
will find them in the leading de- 
partment stores throughout the 
country.) Fade Out. 

CLOSE SHOT: Willys— who en- 
tered the hosiery business via the 
"grease paint route." He sold 
hose to stars on the sets between 
scenes while working as an extra 
in pictures. Fade Out. 
Fade In: Time — present. Place — Hollywood. 
Today Willys has the distinction of being the 
sole hosiery stylist for stars as w-ell as studios. 
Willys is pictured here with Edward Stevenson, 
designer for RKO Studios — they are discussing 
hosiery styles to be worn in the forthcoming 
RKO production, "Beauty For The Asking." 

Willys creates the styles of his hose as well 
as their colors. A few of his innovations, made 
universally popular by the stars of Hollywood, 
are the complete sandal foot hose, first created 
for Dietrich — the ombre (two-tone) hose also 
designed for her — complete lace heel and toe 
hose created for Ginger Roger's dancing feet — 
peek-a-boo hose (toes cut out to vie with open- 
toe shoes) styled for Lily Pons — and on and on 

The most outstanding hosiery color idea con- 
ceived by Willys was the lipstick hues that 
matched the lipsticks of a famous Hollywood 
cosmetic house. To these rosy hues he added 
a wide range of pastel tints and Willys gave 
Hollywood the first gayly colored hosiery for 
evening wear. 

Willys' star clientele, of course, includes the 
top names of the cinema industry. 

Willys indicates the Hollywood hosiery trends 
of style and color. 

When you "stocking-shop," you're bound to 
find your purchases influenced by the inspira- 
tion of his genius. Fade Out. 

Print Them! That's All For Today! 



They're beautiful-adored- 
they use a simple, inexpensive 
Complexion Care 


Here's IDA LUPINO, charming 
screen star, using Hollywood's 
favorite complexion care. "Let 
me give you a tip," she tells you. 
"Really lovely skin makes any 
girl attractive! Screen stars use 
Lux Toilet Soap because its 
ACTI\ E lather removes cos- 
metics thoroughly." 


Bewitching JOAN BLOX- 
DELL, Warner Bros. star. 
"Foolish to risk the dullness, 
tiny blemishes, enlarged 
pores that may mean Cos- 
metic Skin," she tells you. 
"I always use Lux Toilet 
Soap. Its ACTIVE lather 
leaves skin soft and smooth." 

Here's LORETTA YOUNG, star 
of 20th Century-Fox's "Ken- 
tucky," ready to protect a mil- 
lion-dollar complexion against 
choked pores. "Use cosmetics, of 
course, but before you renew 
make-up — ALWAYS before you 
go to bed — use Lux Toilet Soap," 
she says. "It's an easy care that 
leaves skin smooth." 


IO Screen 

JAN UARY. 1939 


I y wood's Unmarried Husbands and Wives 

(Continued from page 23) 

I ml. i the 
unique li : t M.. 

couldn't h 

Bob bought tlu- . Ct to Bar- 

bara's ranch. Hi- started putting up a 

ne'i throw 
of hi ought hones. He 

. minute of his span- time working 

on t! night, he turned into 

in the middle 

of it all, 1 .J to England, the 

work L Barbera ■uper- 

I it Wbili 

i the thing! she knew he wanted. 

aw the dec ora tion and fur- 
ni. hmg of the piece. It was all ready 
when Bob came home. 

Bob's house and Barbara's house 
stand now on adjoining knolls. The oc- 
cupants ride together and work together 
a-id play there together in their time 
Bob trained and worked out for 
"The Crowd Roars" on Barbara's ranch. 
Almost every evening, after work at the 
studio or on the ranch, he runs over for 
a plunge in her pool. 

If it isn't fight night — they've long had 
permanent ether at the Holly- 

wood Legion Stadium — or if they're not 
asked to a party — they're always invited 
together, just like man and wife — they 
; a quiet evening together at either 
one or the other's place. 

Or if Bob has a preview of his picture, 
Barbara goes with him to tell him what 
she thinks of it, and vice versa. Bob 
Stella Dallas" four times. Once 
he caught it in London and bawled so 
copiously that when he came out and a 
kid asked him for his autograph he 
couldn't see to sign it! But he was a 
long way away from Barbara then. 

When he's home, he's a little more 
critical. But never of Barbara's ice 
cream. Bob has never forgotten his Ne- 
braska boyhood ecstasy licking the 
dasher of an ice cream freezer. That's 
why Barbara whips him up a bucketful 
every week, before they roll off to see 
the folks. 

All in all, it's an almost perfect do- 
mestic picture. But no wedding rings 
in sight! 

Even gifts and expressions of senti- 
ment take on the practical, utilitarian 
aspect of old married folks' remem- 
brances when these Hollywood single 
couples come across. Just as Dad gives 
Mother an electric icebox for Christmas 
and she retaliates with a radio, Bob 
Taylor presents Barbara Stanwyck with 
a tennis court on her birthday, with 
Barbara giving Bob a two-horse auto 
trailer for his! 

I HE gifts Carole Lombard and Clark 
Gable have exchanged are even more 
unorthodox. Whoever heard of a wom- 
an in love with a man giving him a gun 
for CI Or a man, crazy about 

• glamorous, sophisticated 
and clever women in the land, hanging 
a gasoline scooter on her Christmas tree! 

For Clark, Carole stopped, almost 
overnight Hollywood playgirl. 

People arc expected to change when 
they get married. The necessary adap- 
tation to .1 n w life and another per- 
sonality shows up in every bride and 
groom. All Clark and Carole did was 
strike up a Hollywood twosome. No- 
body said "I do!" 

Clark Gable doesn't like night spots, 
or parties, social chit-chat, or the frothy 
pretensions of society. He has endured 
plenty of it, but it makes him fid 

Carole, quite frankly, used to eat it 
up. She hosted the mos. charming and 
clever parties in town. She knew every - 

• everywhere. When the ul- 
ted Hay- 
fair Club held its annual ball, Carole 
picked to run things. It was Carole 
who decreed the now famous "White 
Mavfaii " that Norma Shearer crossed up 
rkedly by coming in flaming scar- 
let — an idea you later saw dramatized 
by Bette Davis in "Jezebel." 

These things were the caviar and 
cocktails of Carole Lombard's life — be- 
fore she started going with Gable. But 
look what happened — 

Clark didn't like it, Carole found out 
—quickly. What did he like? Well, 
outside of hunting in wild country 
white men seldom entered, and white 
women never, he like to shoot skeet. 
Shooting skeet, of course, is an intricate 
scoring game worked out on the prin- 
ciple of trapshooting. It involves bang- 
ing away at crazily projected clay pig- 
eons with a shotgun. 

Carole learned to shoot skeet — not 
only learned it but, with the intense 
proficiency with which she attacks any- 
thing, rapidly became one of the best 
women skeet shooters in the country! 

Gable liked to ride, so Carole got her- 
self a horse and unpacked her riding 

He liked tennis, so she resurrected her 
always good court game, taking lessons 
from Alice Marble, her good friend and 
the present national women's champion. 
Playing with a man, Carole had to get 
good and she did — so good that now 
Clark can't win a set! 

It goes on like that. Clark, tiring of 
hotel life, moved out to a ranch in the 
San Fernando Valley. What did Lom- 
bard do? She bought a Valley ranch! 

Carole has practically abandoned all 
her Hollywood social contacts. She 
doesn't keep up with the girls in gossip 
as she used to. She doesn't throw 
parties that hit the headlines and the 
picture magazines. She and Clark are 
all wrapped up in each other's interests. 
While Gable did all the night work in 
"Too Hot To Handle," Carole, though 
working, too, was on his set every night. 
She caught the sneak preview with him 

and told him with all the candor of the 
little woman, "It's hokum, Pappy — but 
the most excellent hokum!" 

Like any good spouse might do, Car- 
ole has ways and means of chastening 
Clark, too. When she's mad at him she 
wears a hat he particularly despises. 
Carole calls it her "hate hat." 

Their fun now, around town, is al- 
most entirely trips, football games, 
fights and shows. Their stepping-out 
nights usually end up at the home of 
Director Walter Lang and his new wife, 
Madalynne Fields, "Fieldsie," Carole's 
bosom pal and long-time secretary. 
They sit and play games! 

Yes, Carole Lombard is a changed 
woman since she tied up with Clark 

But her name is still Carole Lom- 

I HE altar record, in fact, among Holly- 
wood's popular twosomes is suprisingly 

Usually something formidable stands 
in the way of a marriage certificate 
when Hollywood stars pair up minus a 

In Clark and Carole's case, of course, 
there is a very sound legal barrier. 
Clark is still officially a married man. 
Every now and then negotiations for a 
divorce are started, but, until some- 
thing happens in court, Ria Gable is 
still the only wife the law of this land 
allows Clark Gable. 

George Raft can't marry Virginia 
Pine for the very same good reason; 
he has a wife. Every effort he has made 
for his freedom has failed. 

Some of them, like Constance Bennett 
and Gilbert Roland, go in a perfect de- 
sign for living, apparently headed for 
perpetual fun with each other. Connie 
maintains one of the most luxurious 
setups of them all, with a titled hus- 
band in Europe and Gilbert Roland 
her devoted slave in Hollywood. Years 
have passed and the arrangement seems 
to please everybody as much now as it 
did at the start. Why should it ever 
break up? 

M-G-M's reputation for smart showmanship advances another notch 
with their release during the holidays of Charles Dickens' "A Christ- 
mas Carol." Reginald Owen takes the role of crusty Scrooge; Terry 
Kilburn, as Tiny Tim (in doorway) will give the traditional happy 
blessing, "Merry Xmas to you all — God bless us every one" 

On the other hand, the unmarried 
partners sometimes get a divorce — or at 
least a separation, a recess, a morato- 
rium — whatever you care to call it. 
Calling the case of Charlie Chaplin and 
Paulette Goddard requires more than a 
bunch of handy nouns. 

No one has ever been able yet to say 
definitely whether or not the gray- 
haired Charlie and his young, vivacious 
Paulette were ever married. Such 
things as public records exist for just 
such purposes, of course, but in spite 
of the fact that none can be unearthed, 
a strong belief hovers around Holly- 
wood that Charlie and Paulette did ac- 
tually take the vows, some say on his 
yacht out at sea. 

But when, a few months back, Char- 
lie was seen more and more in the com- 
pany of other young ladies and Paulette 
began stepping out with other men, an 
unusually awkward contretemps was 
brewed. What was it? The breaking 
up of a love affair? Or the separation 
of a marriage? If a divorce was to be 
had, there had to have been a marriage. 
But was there? Charlie wouldn't talk; 
neither would Paulette. Hollywood re- 
lapsed into a quandary. It's still there 
as concerns the Chaplin-Goddard un- 
married marriage. Meanwhile, both 
Charlie and Paulette seem to be having 
a good time with whomever they fancy. 
But the interesting thing is that Paul- 
ette still entertains her guests, when she 
wishes, on Charlie Chaplin's yacht. So 
maybe she has an interest in it that a 
mere separation couldn't efface. 

I HE most tragic, as well as perhaps the 
most tender match of them all gave way 
to an irresistible rival wooer, Death. 
At the time of Jean Harlow's untimely 
passing, she and William Powell had 
reached an understanding that excluded 
any one else from either's thoughts. 
Both had fought for happiness in Holly- 
wood without finding it, until they 
found each other. Then Death stole 
Jean away and Bill has never recovered 
from the effect of that stunning blow. 

There was only Jean Harlow's fam- 
ily, her doctor and William Powell in 
her hospital room the night she lost her 
fight for life. Jean died in Bill's arms. 

In every way since, he has acted as a 
son-in-law to Jean's mother. He bought 
the crypt where Jean lies today and ar- 
ranged for perpetual flowers. This year, 
on the anniversary of her passing, Bill 
Powell and Mrs. Bello, Jean's mother, 
went alone to visit Jean's resting place. 
He sent Mrs. Bello on a trip to Ber- 
muda last winter to recover from the 
severe grief she has suffered since 
Jean's death. She visited Bill regularly 
during his recent spell in the hospital. 
Both have one regret — that Bill and 
Jean never got to be man and wife. 

And that, it seems, would point a les- 
son to the unique coterie of Hollywood's 
unwed couples — Bob Taylor and Bar- 
bara Stanwyck, who could get married 
if they really wanted to; George Raft 
and Virginia Pine, Carole Lombard and 
Clark Gable and the other steady com- 
pany couples who might swing it if they 
tried a little harder. You can't take 
your happiness with you. 

For nobody, not even Hollywood's 
miracle men, has ever improved on the 
good old-fashioned, satisfying institu- 
tion of holy matrimony. And, until 
something better comes along, the best 
way to hunt happiness when you're in 
love in Hollywood or anywhere else — 
is with a preacher, a marriage license 
and a bagful of rice. 



Boos and Bouquets 

(Continued from page 68) 


I HERE ought to be a "No Smile" week 
naugurated out in Hollywood. It would 
;ive the stars a chance to relax their jaw 
nuscles and perhaps, occasionally, look 
he way they feel when they go out of an 
evening. I'm fed up gazing at pictures of 
ny favorites with eternal grins on their 
aces, snapped at the Troc, at the Victor 
lugo, etc., leering at me from the Cal 
fork pages of Photoplay. They're all 
having a simply marvelous time" — 
•TUTS! If I do happen to spot a star 
:eeping a "straight face" when looking 
dr. Fink's camera in the eye, he or she, 
is the case may be, goes up one hundred 
•er cent in my estimation. (And this 
s a hint to a certain First Lady of the 
Screen whose dignified beauty has not 
leen enhanced these days by her con- 
tant smile — which verges on a smirk.) 
Judy Mitchell, 
Wauwautosa, Wise. 

And we thought Americans were a 
lation of optimists! But maybe this is a 
lebatable question . . . do you like to 
ee your favorites look as though they 
re having a good rbne, or would you 
irefer to see them a shade more on the 
edate side? Let us know. 


DO not agree with a recent editorial 
umming up the Crawford-Tone separa- 
ion. You state that there was the bru- 
al fact that Joan 'was making more 
loney when they met and as the years 
lassed she kept on being more impor- 
ant and making more money. 

I beg to differ about her being more 
mportant. To Franchot's millions of 
idmirers and friends, he is more impor- 
ant than Joan ever was or ever will be. 
le is the son of a millionaire and to him 

money means practically nothing. The 
real reason for the separation is because 
Franchot is a gentleman and hates all 
the publicity which seems to be the very 
breath of life to Joan. I will admit that 
a certain amount of publicity is neces- 
sary to the success of any film star, but 
there should be reason in all things. The 
reason for Joan's flop at the box office 
can be traced directly to her ambition to 
be the one and only film star in pictures. 

J. D, 
Salt Lake City, Utah. 


nHAT nearsighted producers started 
Don Ameche and Robert Young in their 
"also ran" Cinderella roles? Are they 
destined to reach a mournful old movie 
age vainly pressing their suits and smil- 
ing wistfully in endless romantic defeat 
— without once winning that girl, except 
in secondary spectacles? 

Two such delightful players merit as- 
signments more in tune with their out- 
standing talent. Even a lowly "B" 
picture acquires distinction with the 
comprehension and humor of an Ameche 
or a Young performance to the rescue. 

How about some super parts for these 
underrated actors before they are for- 
ever typed? 

Do I hear shouts of "A"-greement with 
this wilderness voice? 

Nancy Louise Couper, 
Baltimore, Maryland. 

It is true that every so often Robert 
Young and Don Ameche don't get their 
women in the last clinch, but, as both 
are noted in film circles for being all- 
around good guys, it is to be wondered 
if they would want to pay the price of 
being known as "glamour boys" even to 
be always starred in super-productions. 
We like them as they are. 

This Year's Love Market 

(Co7iti?iued from page 15) 

m the Stork front. The Morton Dow- 
leys (Barbara Bennett) profited when 
heir stock rose 1 baby girl during the 
nonth. At the close of business Stork 
vas still firm, with the Melvyn Doug- 
as-Helen Gahagan firm reporting a new 
ind important member. 

September: Romances were easier, 
vith many participants taking profits 
ifter the recent upswing, and news 
carce. Year-end reports are said to be 
gratifying, but the interest was not yet 
effected in the street. The Margot 
jrahame-Francis Lister divorce caused 
» slight decline in the Marriage Stability 
fidex, but the Hearts Exchange went 
ip a few days later with Margot's mar- 
riage to Canadian Allen McMartin. 

The renewed rumor of a merger be- 
:ween Gaynor and designer Adrian 
lelped maintain the list, while definite 
innouncement that Marie Wilson and 
Director Nick Grinde would merge was 
:onsidered good news by the traders. 

A setback was caused by a hinted 
Reno visit by Bette Davis. The Tyrone 
Power issue, which had been very vola- 
tile in recent months, again rallied 
sharply with much widespread partici- 
pation. The Norma Shearer firm was 
rumored to have the largest commit- 
ments in T. P. Preferred. 

Three events of major importance 
brought renewed activity into the mar- 

ket in the last two weeks of the month. 
Marriage stocks jumped three points 
upon the definite announcement of a 
consolidation between Ronald Colman 
and Benita Hume, Genevieve Tobin and 
Director William Keighley and Shirley 
Ross and Ken Dolan. The list sagged 
a little at increasingly serious rumors of 
divorce between Bette Davis and Har- 
mon Nelson, picked up later at the notice 
that Frances Drake and Cecil Howard 
(brother of the Earl of Suffolk) would 
amalgamate their American-British in- 
terests some time in the near future. 

October, November, December: De- 
spite the jitterbug quality of Love stocks 
due to the War scare in Europe, the list 
took a slight turn for the better with the 
merger of Martha Raye, once divorced, 
and Dave Rose and these two major 
mergers: Margaret Tallichet and Direc- 
tor William Wyler; Doris Kenyon, 
former wife of the late Milton Sills, and 
Albert Lasker. 

Stork went to a new high with issues 
made by the following firms: the Ernst 
Lubitschs. the Jules Garfields, the An- 
thony Quinns. 

Straws in the wind indicate also that 
the English glamour bonds soon will rise 
again with the long-waited combine of 
Ida Lupino and Louis Hayward. Amer- 
ican glamour bonds rose sharply with 
the Odets' and Oakies' reconciliations. 

*Shirley Ross has lovely hands. With Bob Hope in Paramount's ''Thanks for the Memory". 

Overcome "Winter Dryness- help protect 
Softness, Smoothness of your HANDS 

T7VERY girl wants "Hollywood 
-*- J Hands" — so soft and smooth, so 
enchanting to a man! Winter is their 
special enemy. Then the skiivs mois- 
ture glands provide less natural 
moisture. And outdoor exposure 
and necessary use of water are very 
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JAN U ARY. 1939 


It Pays to Be Tough 

■ iiiid jrom page 17) 

mother d> 

1cm round : -old 

brother and • 

'k the baby. Tl. 
•hii worked nil day in a garment 

He red ■:> ;:. !!•■ 

could walk and talk and go to School, 
A kindly t door under- 

took For the 

: for him • 

M the life ipI the SO 

In a New York ghetl raw adept 

with .;iid the sidewalk lingo, 

with the arts of cop-chivvying and 
fruit-swiping. He had no kick coming 
till his lather married again. 

Hil Stepmother never had a chance 
with Julie. Julie v. | U) Hi 

all about stepmothers and how 
they treated kids. But he'd show this 
one. She happened to be a gentle, pa- 
tient woman with no wish but to make 
life more comfortable for her husband 
n. She found a sullen rebel, 
flint to all overtures, too old to turn to 
her i too young to appre- 

her qualities. 
The family moved to the Bronx, and 
the boy was sent to Angelo Patri's 
I a reform school, but an ex- 
periment;.! institution for difficult chil- 
dren. He didn't much cire what school 
he went to. so long as his extra-curric- 
ular activities remained unhampered, 
nnexed himself to a promising 

'We ware really fancy." he recalls. 
"Threw bottles from roofs and made 
war on other gangs. The classier kids 
crossed the street when they saw me 
coming. 'Don't hang around with Julie.' 
their mothers told them. 'He's a bad 
boy ' " 

What was eating Julio, though he 
didn't know it, was the yen to be a hero. 
He wanted to be looked up to. The 
only talents he'd developed lay in being 
a tough guy. so he cultivated those for 
all he was worth. 

He hrd another talent of whose pos- 
sibilities he was still unaware. His 
friends called it "makin" crazy." 

"C'mon, fellas," they'd yell, "listen to 
Julie makin' crazy " 

Mounted on a box under the corner 
lamppost, Julie would improvise tall 
The kids were all reading Frank 
well. Play by play he'd describe 
a thrilling football match, featuring his 
father who was a tailor but had some- 
how managed to make the Harvard 
and his brother who was eight 
but the star of the Yale eleven. The 
street rang with yells of laughter and 
Julie went home with a sense of 
warmth in his breast. 

IT was Angelo Patri who diverted his 

energies into less anti-social channels. 
!!• took me out of the gutter," says 
Garfield blandly. 

Patri got wind of the boy's speech- 
making gifts He pointed out that the 
'lasses in dramatics and 
oratory and that any student could elect 
eighty minutes a day of any course that 
appealed to him. 

Julie decided to enroll. Not long 
after, tin 

an oratorical i titu- 

tion and the erstwhile strong-arm guy 
brought home the bacon — a hundred 
dollars in cash, assorted medals, honors 
for himself and the school. 

Suddenly his world was looking on 
him with respect Hitherto stony-faced 
teachers smiled and clapped him on the 

i ized him 

colli ted his nod 

To realize that be could . 

in by Using his head ta- 
in to 
Julie. Mole important still was the 
.lion that he had an absorbing aim 
in life He was going to be an actor. 
Not that his turbulent 1 sud- 

denly tami itch to roam m 

him just I ..duation. so oil he 

went to visit an uncle in Chicago. This 
fall from • him the medal, al- 

engraved with his name, which 
the school conferred on the boy of whom 
Last year he returned to his alma 
r to address the graduating class. 
On the platform Mr. Patri handed him 
a leather case. "Here's something you 
forfeited seven or eight years ago. We 
feel it's coming to you now." 

It was during his years at the Patri 
school that he met a girl named Roberta 
Mann. The gently-bred Roberta was 
alternately chilled and fascinated by 
"that crazy Julie," whose hair was as 
wild as his ideas. "You're crude." she'd 
storm at him. "Ycu don't behave like 
a gentleman." 

"Who wants to be a gentleman? I'm 
B free spirit." 

What's so free about you?" 
"Well, for one thing, I'm starting off 
tomorrow to see the world." 
"Yes. you are!" 

A week later she'd received a post- 
card from a distant city. 

LXCEPT for some such occasional lapse, 
he kept his eyes fixed on the goal. A 
teacher advised him to apply to the 
Heckscher Theatre, a training school for 
dramatic students, where he was ac- 
cepted and assigned alternately to the 
roles of Qtii»ce and Bottom in "A Mid- 
summer Night's Drecm." Jacob Ben- 
Ami attended a performance and word 
reached Garfield that the actor had 
spoken well of him. So he sat himself 
down and wrote Ben-Ami a letter, ask- 
ing where he could go for further train- 

"To the American Laboratory Thea- 
tre." Ben-Ami wrote back. 

This was an organization run by two 
graduates of the Russian Art Theatre, 
Richard Boleslavski and Mme. Ouspen- 
skaya. Garfield made an appointment 
with the lady. For an hour he rehearsed 
himself in a casual rendition of his 
opening line. 

"Jacob Ben-Ami. who happens to be 
a very dear friend of mine." he told her, 
"sent me here. I would like an audi- 
tion." (Suppose she phones him, you 
dope, and finds out what a liar you 
are, he was telling himself meantime). 

Luckily, she didn't. He got his audi- 
tion. "We'll give you a month's trial." 
said Mme. Ouspenskaya. "Then, if 
you've proven yourself, a seven months' 

He was earning five dollars a week, 
selling the Bronx Home News from 
door to door. He knew that, to take ad- 
vantage of this opportunity, he would 
have to give all his time to it. He also 
had to have the five dollars a week. He 
couldn't tell his father he'd given up 
his paper route. So he took the prob- 
lem to Mr Patri. "I'll substitute for 
the Bronx Home News," offered Patri. 
and loaned him five dollars a week 
while, for eight months. Julie tried 
frantically to absorb all that the Rus- 
sians could teach him. 

Came autumn, and Garfield turned 
once more to Ben -Ami. for no good rea- 
son except that he'd turned to him be- 

lt worked again and he found 
himself apprenticed to Eva Le Gal- 
lienne's stock company — no pay, but a 
eh. inn- to leam and, if he made good, to 
be given a job when his apprenticeship 
d. He earned his keep as he 
could — running errands, washing dishes, 
pushing a handcart in the garment cen- 
ter. Meantime he was playing extras 
and bits in the training school. 

I HE apprentices put on "Journey's 
End" as their graduation play. Garfield 
made a distinct impression. This was 
the night of wild suspense and hope, 
the night when Miss Le Gallienne chose 
from among her apprentices a few of 
the most promising, to be made regular 
members of the company. 

She called his name. "Garfield, I 
want to give you a little lecture. The 
discipline of the theater is as strict as 
the discipline of the army. Why did 
you take Mr. C's shoes and hide them?" 

"What are you talking about?" he 

"The night Mr. C gave a guest per- 
formance here, his shoes were hidden 
just before the rise of the curtain. Why 
did you do it?" 

"But I didn't—" 

"I'm sorry, Garfield. All signs point 
to you. And we have no room here for 
people who jeopardize a production to 
prove that they're smart alecks." 

Garfield hadn't hidden the shoes. He 
had a notorious and well-earned rep- 
utation as a practical joker, but he con- 
fined his activities to the gentry above- 
stairs. His reverence for the sacred 
traditions of the theater was as deep as 
Miss Le Gallienne's. 

But what was the use! He stood 
miserably silent while the jobs went to 
others. Later, he received a letter of 
apology. The culprit had been found. 
His chance, however, remained lost. 

In a state of thorough disgust with 
himself and fate, he fell in with an artist 
friend. "The function of the artist." said 
his friend, "is to know the country he 
lives in." 

"Let's go." said Garfield. 

They left New York with six dollars 
between them. They worked in the coal 
mines of Pennsylvania and the wheat 
fields of Kansas. For handouts at 
kitchen doors, they paid as they could. 
Garfield recited "Gunga Din." His friend 
presented the lady of the house with a 
pen-and-ink sketch. Eventually they 
separated, because it was easier for one 
alone to get a lift than two together. 
They were to meet at a certain gas sta- 
tion, but missed each other. 

ARRIVING on the coast, Garfield tried 
to join the navy. They wouldn't have 
him. He tried to join the marines. They 
wouldn't have him. So he started back 
east. In Nebraska he began feeling sick 
and drowsy, but he kept on moving, and 
ten days later stumbled into his step- 
mother's kitchen. Panicstricken. she 
phoned Roberta, who took one look at 
her friend and called an ambulance. He 
spent the next eight weeks in the hos- 
pital with typhoid. 

As he convalesced, resolution took 
shape and hardened. On his second day 
out, he walked into a producer's office. 
"Give me a job," he said. 

"What do you mean, give you a job? 
What job?" 

"Any job." 

"What are you. nuts? How do I know 
you can act?" 

"How do I know you can produce? 
I'm taking a chance on you. You don't 
have to take any chance on me. Give 

me a part and I'll read it for you." 

The producer was sufficiently tickled 
with this unorthodox approach to let 
him read a part in "Lost Boy" and suffi- 
ciently impressed with his reading to 
give him the job. 

Success achieved is pleasant, but 
makes for a less varied story than the 
struggle to achieve it. An agent saw 
Garfield and presently he was playing 
the office boy in the road company of 
"Counielor-at-Law." The thrill of his 
young life came when he was called 
back to do the same part with Muni on 

Muni was his paragon. He met Victor 
Wolfson, who loved books and found 
Garfield drinking in all he could teach 
him with the thirst of a parched mind. 
For a while, indeed, he planned to in- 
terrupt his stage career for college, but 
things were happening too fast. 

He met Clifford Odets, who had just 
finished "Awake and Sing." 

"What it's produced, I think you're 
the one to play it," he told Garfield. 

Odets did for him in music what Wolf- 
son had done for him in literature. The 
fire was laid, waiting only for a match 
to kindle it. 

He and Odets would spend hours 
drinking wine, listening to music, talk- 
ing their heads off. The playwright 
told him, too, about the Group Theatre, 
about the young people who'd formed it, 
their hopes, their plans and ideas. 

"Sounds like heaven to me," said Gar- 

It ended in his becoming an appren- 
tice, then a regular member of the 
Group. A couple of flops were followed 
by "Waiting for Lefty." Next day they 
were the talk of the town. 

It was then that Garfield and Roberta 
married. The ceremony took place at 
nine o'clock. 

The groom dashed downtown to per- 
form at a benefit and dashed back to 
stand beside his bride for the wedding 
reception at ten thirty. 

"Awake and Sing" brought him still 
more brilliantly into the limelight and 
he began turning down his first movie 

"I want to be in the theater. I need 
more training." 

Only after "Having Wonderful Time" 
and "Golden Boy" did he feel that he 
might te ready for a stab at Hollywood. 
He joined Warners, because they agreed 
to his "back to Broadway" platform. 
But he gets an extra kick out of being 
on the same lot with Muni. 

He blushed like a boy when Muni vis- 
ited his set one day. 

"What are you doing here?" smiled 
the older actor. 

"Just came out to see what it was 

Muni nodded. "You'll be all right. 
Don't give up this for this." he added, 
pointing to heart and head. 

"I won't," promised Garfield, earnestly. 

H E was frightened by the advance raves 
on his performance in "Four Daughters." 

"They've given me a hurdle too high 
to jump at," he groaned. 

He needn't have worried. Now that 
the picture's released, no complaints 
have been heard. 

There's a long list of what he calls 
"real people" waiting to be played by 
him. He's alive to his times and finds 
them exciting. He's using his talent 
well. He has his precious stage clause 
to hug to his breast. 

The kid who composed comedy fairy- 
tales under a lamppost to entertain his 
gang hasn't "made so crazy." 



The Case of the Hollywood Scanda 

DRUCE EATON calmly started for the 
door, cupping his palm under my elbow. 

The city officer said, "Just a minute, 
please," and then to the cashier, "What 
was he doing in the bank?" 

"He wanted to get some things out of 
a lockbox," the cashier said. 

"Did he have the key to the lockbox?" 

"Yes, of course." 

The officers exchanged glances. There 
was a sudden, significant tenseness 
about their attitude. "What," the city 
detective asked, "was the number of the 

"Number five," the cashier said. 

The sheriff gave a low whistle. The 
city detective said, "I'm very sorry, Mr. 
Eaton, but we came down here to in- 
vestigate that lockbox. If you had the 
key to it, perhaps you know why." 

"I'm sure I know nothing whatever 
about your reasons for coming here," 
Bruce Eaton said, with dignity. 

"Did you open the box?" 


"Do you have the key to it?" 


"Let's see if." 

"I see no reason for giving it to you." 

There was a harsh note in the detec- 
tive's voice, "Now listen," he said, "I'm 
asking you nice. I've asked you once 
and I'm going to ask you once more. 
That's going to be the last time. I want 
the key to that box." 

The sheriff said, "Wait a minute. We 
don't need to bother about the key. 
We're more interested in the contents. 
What did you take out of the box, 

"Don't answer questions, Mr. Eaton," 
I warned. "Sit absolutely tight. This 
is outrageous!" 

The city officer said, ominously. "You 
keep out of this, sister, or you'll wish 
you had," arid then to Eaton, "You an- 
swer questions and cooperate, or we'll 
search you." 

I was hoping frantically that Bruce 
Eaton would get the significance of my 
quick wink. He did. "Go ahead and 
search me," he said. "You have suffi- 
cient force to do it, but I won't submit 
to the indignity of answering questions 
about matters which are simply none of 
your damn business." 

The sheriff hesitated. I saw that he 
was impressed, but the hard-boiled city 
officers closed in on Bruce Eaton. They 
held his arms, ■went through his pockets 
swiftly. "Here's the key to the lock- 
box," one of the officers said. 

The officer in charge nodded to the 
bank cashier. "We'll open it up and 
take a look." 

"It's irregular," the cashier began. 
"There was a blank power of attorney 
left by. . . ." 

"Forget it," the officer said, sliding a 
thick arm around the cashier's shoulder. 
"Come on, Buddy, let's go." 

I HE gentle pressure of his arm pushed 
the cashier into motion. As one in a 
daze, he produced the bank's key. I 
heard the double click of locks opening 
and then the officer exclaimed, "It's 
empty. There ain't a thing in here." 

The bank cashier said, "Then it's a 
hoax. There never were any notes 
about an invention in that box. It was 
a swindle game." 

The officer looked at me with uncor- 
dial eyes. "You," he said, "have taken 
in a lot of territory in this thing. Sister." 

I said, scornfully, "Get a matron and 
you can search me." 

The officer looked me over. It was a 
warm day and I was wearing light 

(■Continued from page 63) 

clothes. I'd left a lightweight coat in 
Bruce Eaton's car. "I guess," he said, 
"you haven't very much concealed on 
you. Take a look in her purse, Bill." 

I stood erect, scornfully silent. The 
eyes of the officers took in every curve 
of my figure in a calm, unhurried ap- 
praisal that seemed to strip the clothes 
right off me. 

The screen door of the bank swung 
open and shut, as Mr. Foley, looking 
cool and calmly competent, entered the 

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he 
said. "I'm sorry to disturb your little 
party, but I think it's about time for 
you to get down to brass tacks and 
catch the murderers, don't you?" 

The city detective was the nearest 
to Mr. Foley. He said, "Who the hell 
do you think you are?" 

Foley ignored the question. "You 
came down to set a trap," he said. "Be- 
cause of a little premature gunplay on 
the part of a hysterical bank cashier, 
you were talked into springing your 
trap before you'd even set it. You were 
trying to catch a lion. In place of that, 
you've caught a jackal." 

The officer said, "You're full of ad- 
vice, brother. Suppose you tell us how 
it happens you know so much about it 
and we'll just take a look at your driv- 
ing license and any other means of 
identification. . . ." 

"I'm not going to argue with you," 
Foley interrupted. "Two people are 
coming into this bank. If they find it 
full of officers, you're never going to 
get anything on them. Unless you can 
get some additional evidence, you can't 
pin a thing on them. Get your men 
scattered about, filling out deposit slips, 
standing up at the windows. Make this 
look like a busy bank and you'll catch 
your murderer." 

The officer seemed dubious. 

I looked out through the window and 
saw the detective who had interrupted 

The Bernarr Macfadden 

conducts various non-profit enterprises: 
The Macfadden-Deauville Hotel at 
Miami Beach, Florida, one of the most 
beautiful resorts on the Florida Beach, 
recreation of all kinds provided, although 
a rigid system of Bernarr Macfadden 
methods of health building can be 

The Physical Culture Hotel, Dansville, 
New York, will also be open during the 
winter, with accommodations at greatly 
reduced prices, for health building and 

The Loomis Sanitarium at Liberty, New 
York for the treatment of Tuberculosis 
has been taken over by the Founda- 
tion and Bernarr Macfadden's treatments, 
together with the latest, most scientific 
medical procedures, can be secured here 
for the treatment, in all stages, of this 
dreaded disease. 

Castle Heights Military Academy at 
Lebanon, Tennessee, a man-building, 
fully accredited school preparatory for 
college, placed on the honor roll by 
designation of the War Department's 
governmental authorities, where char- 
acter building is the most important part 
of education. 

The Bernarr Macfadden Foundation 
School for boys and girls from three to 
eleven, at Briarcliff Manor, New York. 
Complete information furnished upon 

my lunch and Mrs. Temmler just get- 
ting out of an automobile. The detec- 
tive's right eye was badly swollen, but. 
aside from that, he had managed to 
make himself quite presentable. 

I knew that seconds were precious. 
I had a sudden inspiration. 

"All right," I said. "I'll confess every- 
thing, but I'm not going to take the 
rap alone." 

I saw Mr. Foley's eyes widen with 
surprise; saw Bruce Eaton start in- 
credulously. The city officer nodded. 
"Now," he said, "you're talking sense." 

"All right," I told him, "here come my 
two accomplices. If you want to get 
the goods on them, go to it. If you 
muff this chance, try and make me 
squeal. I'll never rat." 

I realized my use of criminal jargon 
left much to be desired, but Mr. Foley 
got the idea. I saw his eyes twinkle, 
and then, after a moment, Bruce Eaton 
got it, too. 

The officer turned to his men, "Okay, 
you boys," he said. "Get up at the win- 
dows. You," to the cashier, "get back 
there and start waiting on them. Make 
it snappy! Let's go." 

The men dispersed into groups. The 
officer took me by the arm and said, 
"You come on over here and stand at 
the table. Remember, we're making out 
a deposit." He pushed a deposit slip 
in front of me. One of the other officers 
had Bruce Eaton by the arm. Another 
walked up to stand at the cashier's 
window. He had a roll of currency on 
the slab in front of him and was peeling 
off twenty- dollar bills. 

Mrs. Temmler and her escort entered 
the bank. Accustomed as they were to 
banks in the larger cities, neither of 
them seemed to see anything suspicious 
about the sudden activity of the bank 
at Las Almiras. Mrs. Temmler strode 
directly to the cashier's window. 

The city detective at the counter 
stood slightly to one side. "Pardon me, 
ma'am," he said, "I'm apt to be here for 
some little time. Was there something 
you wanted?" 

"Thank you," she told him, with one 
of her best smiles, and then to the 
white-faced, tight-lipped cashier, she 
said, cooingly, "My friend," with a nod 
toward the man with her, "is a detec- 
tive. My husband is an inventor. He 
had an invention he wanted to sell and 
left notes about the secret of the proc- 
ess in a safe-deposit box here. The 
box is number five. I'm suing my hus- 
band for divorce and I have here a 
court order appointing this gentleman 
as a receiver to take charge of all of 
the property belonging to the com- 
munity. Here's a certified copy of the 
order of the court." 

She pushed a legal-looking document 
across the counter. 

"And don't tell me that you haven't 
an extra key to it," she went on, "be- 
cause we know that you have and. of 
course, you wouldn't want to be guilty 
of contempt of court." 

Her smile would have been provoca- 
tive in a younger, more slender woman. 
In her case, it was just a silly simper. 

The cashier glanced helplessly about 
him. The man who accompanied Mrs. 
Temmler and was now posing as a re- 
ceiver appointed in a divorce action 
glanced casually over his shoulder, and 
evidently became suspicious as he saw 
the men. who were gathered in little 
groups in the bank, suddenly frozen into 
attentive immobility — all eyes on Mrs. 

Then he saw me. I saw panic in his 





Try it! It's only GO? but it shat- 
ters all former ideas that a cream 
must be expensive to be good. 
As a matter of fact, when Mary 
Pickford had this identical cream 
made up for her own personal 
use it cost her five times as much 
as you are asked to pay. There 
are dozens of cleansing creams 
you can buy, but only one by 


COLO CREAM . ... 60c FACE POWDER . 60c 

TISSUE CREAM . . 85c 0RYR0UCE. . . 60c 

SWN FRESHENER . . 60c LIPSTICK .... 60c 

On sale at Department and 
Drug stores. Ask for bcok/ef. 

New York • Hollywood 


JANUARY, 1939 


He turned d fur the 


the • low. The 

city d "Oh, 

wcul J. would :id lashed 

M TEMMLER turned just as the city 

officer sL iplioa up 

hard that it shook 

uildmg. Tim, .--lu\ to... 
run ibbad her by the lim, 

For a moment, .she struggled with them, 
forming the nucleus of ■ little group 
which swayed back and forth, this way 
and that. Then the group, resolved 
itself into component parts. The man 

had told me he w • stive 

had ! circled by handcuffs and 

Temmler, whib her heavy 

m rising and falling in heaving ra- 
pidity, was in the grip of one of the 
:s. The city officer in charge said, 
"Okay. si>ter, here are your accom- 
plices. Now go ahead and give us the 

I tried to make my laugh sound 
.1 and carefree, but I knew it was 
a hollow failure as soon as I heard it. 
I managed, however, to make my voice 
breezy and nonchalant. "Don't be silly, 
simply fixing things so you'd trap 
these people intelligently. It looked as 
though you were going to lose your 
chance in a lot of arguments with Mr. 
Foley. / don't know anything about 
the crime." 

The handcuffed man sneered, "That's 

what you say! I'm an operative, I've 

been shadowing this little lady ever 

since she started to work for that man, 

. over there. She. . . ." 

"Wait a minute," the officer inter- 
rupted, staring hard at Foley. "Is this 
woman working for you?" 

He nodded. 

I saw the officer's lips tighten. He 
said to the handcuffed detective, "What's 
your name?" 

"Thompson Garr." 

"All right, Garr. Go ahead." 

1," Garr said, "she went out to 
Temmler's house the night of the mur- 
der. She went in there by herself. 
When she went in, Carter Wright was 
alive. He had the key to that safe- 
deposit box with him. When this 
woman came out, Carter Wright was 
dead and she had the key. You can 
draw your own conclusions." 

I saw that the officers were drawing 
them, and drawing them fast. I realized 
that circumstantial evidence had caught 
me in a trap. I whirled to the detec- 
tive and said, accusingly, "And you and 
that blonde accomplice of yours tried 
to run me down a block from Mr. 
iler's house." 

I r< alized as soon as I had spoken 
that I'd said exactly the wrong thing. 
It didn't do any good to accuse him of 
trying to run me down. But what I 
was an admission that I had been 
' the house the night of inc mur- 
v from the expression on Mr. 
Foley's face that it was a disastrous ad- 

r said, easily, "I didn't try to run 

tar. That was another 

car. I was tailing you. I got the license 

plates of the other car, but they turned 

out to be phony." 

The officer said to me, "So you ware 
out thi 

Mr Foley aid, "Just a minute, gen- 
tlemen, I think I can rlarify the situa- 
tion. The woman who is with this man 
appeared at my office earlier in the day. 
■ Irs. Charles Temm- 
ler: that Carter Wright had stolen the 
key to du posit boa from his 

employer: that her husband didn't 
know anything about the theft and she 
ifraid to have him find ot 

it would indicate she had given the 
chauffeur the opportunity to steal the 

Mr. Foley took a i from his 

poc k at "I wired ■ deti cy to 

check up on Mrs. Charles Temmler. I 
found that Mrs. Charles Temmler was 
With Inr husband in New York City. 
I also found that Carter Wright I 
woman traveling with him as his com- 
mon-law wife and the description of 
this woman tallies identically with that 
of . . ." 

i lie," she screamed, and, jerk- 
ing herself free of the officer who was 
holding her, made a wild rush for the 

OFFICERS grabbed her. She brushed 
them to one side. She almost made the 
door before they subdued her and got 
handcuffs on her. 

Mr. Foley said, "I think, gentlemen, 
you'll find that Thompson Garr, the de- 
tective here, was hired by Mr. Temmler 
to get back the key to this safe- 
deposit box, but Garr saw no reason 
why he should get a potential fortune 
and turn it back to Charles Temmler for 
a per diem rate of compensation. He 
decided to get the key, recover the con- 
tents of the box and keep whatever he 
found there. 

"He first resorted to trickery and then 
to violence. He actually got the key, 
but lost it and, even then, didn't know 
where the safe-deposit box was lo- 
cated. He knew that Padgham and 
Wright were going to reach an agree- 
ment and that that agreement was to 
be negotiated through my office. He 

Eaton could answer. "I found it on the 
floor (jf Mr. Temmler's house when I 
went there to get Carter Wright to sign 
the agreement." 

Mr. Foley said, "Surely you gentlemen 
don't need to detain Mr. Eaton. He 
isn't going to run away." 

"How do we know?" the officer asked. 

Mr. Foley laughed, and said, "In the 
first place, he's innocent; in the second 
place, even if he wanted to run, there'd 
be no place for him to go. Every man, 
woman and child who has ever been to 
a movie knows Bruce Eaton." 

The sheriff said, "I reckon that's 
right, boys." 

Mr. Foley said, "I think I can finish 
with the rest of these details. Miss Bell, 
I'd like to have you go back to the 
office and wait for me. You'll drive her 
back, won't you, Mr. Eaton?" 

"Certainly," Bruce Eaton said. "It 
will be a pleasure." 

I said, "Do you want to give me any 
instructions about these papers in the 
bank case, Mr. Eaton? I haven't them 
in the files, but they're where I can put 
my hand on them." 

I saw him frown. 

"No," he said, thoughtfully. 

It takes a long time under ordinary 
circumstances for two people to get to 
know each other, but when some emer- 
gency arises and two persons are teamed 
up against the outside world they either 
click, or they don't. Mr. Foley and I 
clicked. I felt suddenly as though I'd 
known the man all my life. 

"After what happened last night," I 
said, "I want to be sure there won't be 

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acted upon the entirely natural assump- 
tion that the information he wanted 
would be contained in the agreement. 

"He deliberately injured my secretary 
in an automobile accident, planted one 
of his operatives in the employment 
agency which handles all of my em- 
ployment problems. His operative, 
Miss Blair, had an inside track with Miss 
Benson, who runs the agency. Miss 
Benson recommended her to me very 
highly and I probably would have ac- 
cepted her, if she hadn't made the mis- 
take of thinking she could land a job 
more through sex appeal than through 
a display of ability. 

"Then, after Carter Wright's death, 
this woman, who had been passing her- 
self off as his wife, saw an opportunity 
to trick me into getting possession of 
the key. She thought either Padgham 
or I must have it, so she posed as Mrs. 
Temmler and tried a bold and auda- 
cious trick. It didn't work. Shortly 
after she tried that, however, Garr must 
have got in touch with her. You can 
hat happened; they hatched up a 
phony court action, in which she sued 
a fictitious husband under an assumed 
name and got this order of receiver- 

The city officer seemed impressed. He 
said to Bruce Eaton. "How did it happen 
you got the key''" 

"I gave it to him," I said, before Bruce 

any misunderstandings. You didn't 
want me to get those papers in that 
bank case?" 

There was comprehension in his eyes. 
"Yes, I did. I hope you didn't mis- 
understand me." 

I laughed and said, "Quite the con- 
trary. I feel any difficulty would be 
quite vice versa," which I hoped was 
sufficiently goofy to fool the officers. I 
knew Mr. Foley would get it. 

"Exactly," he said. 

The officer said, "Well, don't stand 
there chinning. We have work to do. 
Get started, you two — if you're going." 

"I take it. then, that you'll take care 
of that matter?" I asked Mr. Foley, 

"Yes. You took the papers out of the 

"Yes, Mr. Foley. If you want them 
you can get them any time before lunch 

I saw that for a moment he was puz- 
zled. Then his face lit. "Oh, yes," he 
said. "I'll take care of the matter at 
the earliest opportunity. You run along 
and get the office open. I'll vouch for 
you here." 

I nodded to Bruce Eaton. "Ready," 
I said. 

And this time we managed to walk 
out of the bank, although I momen- 
tarily expected to feel the hand of an 
officer clapped down on my shoulder. 

BRUCE EATON drove rather slowly, 
returning to Los Angeles. Several times 
I caught him stealing quick glances at 
me, sizing me up, but it wasn't until we 
had left Pomona behind that he said, "I 
wonder if you realize just how much it 
means to Woodley Page, and to me — 
what you've done?" 

"I haven't done anything," I said, 
making the usual stereotyped answer, 
with my mind not at all on what he 
was saying, but on what must be hap- 
pening back in Las Almiras, wondering 
if I shouldn't have stuck by Mr. Foley 
until after the situation had been finally 
cleared up. 

Bruce Eaton said, "I've been sizing 
you up. Do you know you'd go places 
in pictures? You have the looks, the 
figure, the personality. I don't know 
how you'd screen, but I most certainly 
do know that you can act. You had us 
all fooled with that stunt of claiming 
those two were your accomplices. It 
took quick thinking and good acting to 
put it across ... I'd like to have you 
come out to the studio and arrange for 
a test ... of course, the details of what 
you've done can't be broadcast, but 
enough of it will get around so you'll 
find you'll have plenty of friends in 
Hollywood. Woodley Page is one of the 
best-liked actors there and . . . well, 
Hollywood people just naturally fall for 
a girl who comes through in the 

"You're mighty nice," I told him, "but 
I'm afraid you're overrating any ability 
I may have just about a thousand per 

"Well," he said, smiling, "we'll wait 
for the screen test to tell about that. In 
the meantime, how about dinner to- 

"You forget," I told him, "I'm a work- 
ing girl." 

"But you don't work in the evenings." 

"I may have to." 

"Well, let's take a chance that you 

"I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Eaton, 
but. . . ." 

"Aren't you going to call me Bruce?" 

I flashed him a smile. "All right, 
Bruce, I'm sorry. I'm worried about 
Mr. Foley. I'm not certain that I've given 
him exactly a square deal. After all, 
we left him in something of a spot." 

"You're boss, Mr. Foley, looks to me 
very much like a person who could take 
care of himself under almost any cir- 
cumstances," Bruce Eaton said. "I 
don't think you need to worry about 
him, at all." 

"I'm worried just the same." 

He glanced at me sharply. "I won- 
der," he said, "if . . ." his voice trailed 
away into silence. 

"If what?" I asked. 

"Nothing," he said, smiling. "How 
about that dinner date?" 

"Thanks all the same, but I'm holding 
the evening open for the boss. May I 
have a rain check on it?" 

"You most certainly may," he said 
and then, after a moment, added, as he 
pushed his foot down on the throttle, 
"and I presume that means you're in a 
hurry to get back to Los Angeles and 
your office." 

The car leapt ahead like a frightened 
animal. There was no more conversa- 

He slowed down before we reached 
Los Angeles, but still he seemed in no 
mood for conversation and I was busy 
with my own thoughts. It wasn't until 
he'd stopped the car in front of my 
office building that he took my hand 
and said, "Claire, you've done a great 
deal for Woodley Page. You've done 
a lot more for me. I don't suppose 
there's any use trying to tell you how 
much. And, above all, you've made me 
realize something of what my acting 


stands for. You've renewed my faith 
in the real purpose back of the whole 
picture game. I'm afraid, before, I saw 
it too much from the side of the actor. 
You've given me an opportunity to see 
it from the side of the audience . . . 
and, remember, you're going to have 
dinner with me sometime within the 
next week." 

I wanted to say something else to 
him, but someone recognized him as he 
stood there holding the door open for 
me. People began to crane their necks, 
so I just gave his arm a squeeze and 
said, "It's been grand getting to know 
you, Mr. . . ." 

"Bruce." he interrupted. 

"Bruce," I said, and grinned. 

"Okay, Claire," he told me. "I'll be 
giving you a buzz." 

I crossed the sidewalk to the office 
building. People stared at me as though 
I'd been a queen. 

Mr. FOLEY didn't come in until nearly 
six o'clock. 

"Great heavens!" he said. "Are you 
still here?" 

I nodded. 

"You're supposed to go home at five 

"But I hadn't heard from you and 
. . . and I was waiting." 

"What happened to your actor friend?" 
he asked, frowning. "After all you did 
for him. didn't he. . . ." 

"He wanted me to go to dinner," I 
said. "I took a rain check on it." 

"Why the rain check?" 

"I wanted to hear from you. I was 
worried about leaving you in a spot 
there at the bank." 

He looked at me with frowning con- 
templation as though perhaps trying to 
find confirmation in my face of some- 
thing he had heard in my voice. So I 
said rapidly, "Tell me. what happened?" 

"Thanks to what you told me over 
the telephone," he said, "I had a pretty 
good angle to start on. This detective. 
Garr, is a bully who adopts the attitude 
of getting the other man on the de- 
fensive. You'll notice he was masquer- 
ading very cleverly as a police detec- 
tive. He used the word 'detective,' and 
didn't say whether he was from head- 
quarters or a private detective. It was 
part of his technique to keep the other 
man on the defensive so no questions 
were asked. But when you suddenly 
turned the tables on him and made an 
accusation against him, he forgot him- 
self for a moment. Now, notice the pe- 
culiarity of his conversation. 

"I'm satisfied he started to say, 'Say, 
you ain't got anything on me.' Under 
ordinary circumstances, if he had been 
saying, 'You ain't got anything on me,' 
he'd emphasize the 'you,' in that sneer- 
ing, sarcastic way of his and his chin 
would have been up and thrust forward. 
This time, he ducked his head and not 
only failed to emphasize the 'you,' but 
ran the words together as though he had 
been reciting a fixed formula. 

"Now that's the natural reaction of a 
crook, whenever he's arrested — particu- 
larly a man with a criminal record. He 
pulls his chin down and says, in a voice 
which is a defiant whine, 'You ain't got 
anything on me.' 

"That little tip of yours over the tele- 
phone convinced me that the man was 
a crook, convinced me further that he 
was in this thing pretty deeply. So, 
after you'd left the bank. I told the 
officers to take his fingerprints, and 
they'd find he had a criminal record. 
That floored him." 

"Did he confess?" I asked. 

"Not just then, he didn't," Mr. Foley 
said. "The woman was the first to con- 
fess. She was afraid she was going to 
get roped in on the murder rap. When 
the going got good and rough, she caved 
in and put all the blame on Garr's 

shoulders. Garr tried to get out by 
making her the goat. When I left, they 
were both going sixty miles an hour, 
calling names and making accusations. 
I lifted the letters out of the cashier's 
lunch box." 

"Do you know exactly what happened 
on that murder?" I asked. 

He grinned. "I think so. One of the 
things that's been puzzling you is what 
happened to your shorthand notebook 
and that agreement in the brief case. 
Right " 

I nodded. 

"Well," he said, "you see, it's this way. 
Padgham went out to the house a little 
early. He got there a few minutes be- 
fore you did. He found the corpse in 
the upstairs room. Your actor friend 
had evidently been tied and gagged in 
the closet — Garr admitted slugging him 
and tying and gagging him after a strug- 
gle, but wouldn't admit the murder. 
Anyway, Padgham beat it. After ten or 
fifteen minutes he started worrying 
about what was going to happen to 
Woodley Page. He wondered if Carter 
Wright happened to have the key to that 
safe-deposit box in his possession and 
he thought it would be a good plan to 
find out. He drove back toward the 

"He didn't care to be seen in the 
house, so he took a flashlight out of his 
car and slipped it in his pocket. Then 
he went around to the back screen 
porch, pulled a master switch which 
plunged the whole place in darkness 
and walked around to the front door. 
He rang the doorbell, just as a precau- 
tion, not thinking it possible anyone was 
in the house, but not wanting to take a 
chance on being discovered if someone 
did happen to be there. When you 
opened the door, it almost knocked him 
for a loop. 

"You didn't notice the significant part 
of his conversation. He didn't ask you 
anything about when the lights went off 
and, despite the fact the house was in 
darkness, started upstairs to see what he 
could find. That shows he had a flash- 
light in his pocket and he wouldn't have 
had a flashlight with him unless he'd 
taken it, knowing that he had use for it. 

OO." Mr. Foley went on. "after think- 
ing the matter over, I got hold of Pad- 
gham, accused him point-blank and 
made him admit the whole business, in 
addition to telling me about the real 
purpose back of the agreement. It was, 
of course, a species of blackmail." 

"But why did Mr. Padgham steal the 
agreement and my shorthand note- 
book?"' I asked. "If he. . . ." 

Mr. Foley grinned and said. "He 
didn't. Now don't get mad. Miss Bell, 
but I'm the guilty one. I lifted the 
agreement out of your brief case while 
you were in the drugstore, telephoning 
the police. I came up to the office late 
last night to get your shorthand note- 
book. I was afraid you were going to 
get dragged into it. I was afraid the 
police would grab the agreement and I 
didn't think that was exactly the right 
way to treat my clients." 

"Then why didn't you tell me?" I 

"Because then you'd have had to lie to 
the police. As it was, you rather sus- 
pected Padgham of having taken the 
agreement, which was perfectly swell 
as far as I was concerned. Why did 
you take a rain check on Bruce Eaton's 
dinner invitation?" 

I felt color in my cheeks, but tried to 
make my voice sound casual. "I thought 
perhaps you might want me. . . ." 

"I do." he said. "Let's go out where 
we can eat and dance and forget all 

"You give me five minutes with my 
compact," I told him. . . . 

That finished the case as far as the of- 

fice was concerned. As far as I'm con- 
cerned, it's just started things and I 
don t know how or where they're going 
to end. Bruce Eaton called me at the 
office this morning. He's arranged for 
that screen test and he's insisting on a 
definite date for dinner. 

Mr. Foley came in a few minutes ago 
and paused by my desk to look down at 
me. I don't think I can ever forget last 
night, with the rhythm of the dance 
music, and drifting across the floor in 
his arms. He said, "Let's do that again 
sometime, Claire." 

I nodded. "Soon," he said. 

I didn't tell him about the screen test. 
"Any time," I told him. 

He put his hand on mine for a minute 
and said. "Incidentally, if you're really 
interested in studying voices, you're go- 
ing to have an excellent opportunity." 

"Oh. I am interested," I exclaimed. 
"I think it's one of the most fascinating 
things I've ever encountered. Tell me 
more about it. What's the opportunity?" 

"One of the big radio companies," Mr. 
Foley said, "has just made me an offer 
to put on a new feature. You know, 
I've been acting as talent scout for this 
company for several weeks. Now 
they've become very much interested 
and have made me this offer." 

"Just what is it?" I asked. 

nE said. "I'm to have a telephone, 
with a number which will be broadcast. 
Any person at any time during the day 
can call me up on the telephone. The 
person doesn't need to give his name. 
He simply asks for a number. I assign 
that person a number. The person then 
talks with me. telling me something of 
his or her problems, occupation, ambi- 
tions and discusses any contemplated 
changes in environment or career. 

"Then, on my broadcast, I call out 
these numbers, analyze the person's 
character, advise that person of his or 
her strong points and weak points, the 
things to seek in life, the things to avoid. 
It will all be absolutely private because 
the person who is involved is the only 
one who will know the number allotted 
over the telephone. 

"The general radio public will hear 
me say only for instance, 'number twen- 
ty-three: I note that you have a sym- 
pathetic voice. I further note that you 
are inclined to do a great deal of ex- 
plaining in connection with decisions 
you reach, or instructions you give. 
That shows me that you are not the ex- 
ecutive type. It shows me also that you 
are altogether too considerate of other 
people's feelings. You'll note that the 
executive seldom gives reasons for his 
conclusions. The man who can answer 
a question in actual conversation with a 
brief "yes" or "no" is one usually accus- 
tomed to command. He is the execu- 
tive type and usually he's relatively in- 
considerate of other persons' feelings. 
He focuses his mind on a result which 
he wants to accomplish, whereas . . .' 
You get the point," he said. 

"Indeed I do! I think it would be 

"Well, we're going to give it a whirl," 
he told me and then said abruptly. 
"You certainly look mighty fresh and 
sweet this morning" . . . and then, as 
though he were afraid he'd become too 
personal, he made a great show of grab- 
bing his mail and bustling away. 

I picked up the paper with its big 
headlines reading, "POLICE OBTAIN 
CASE." I started to read and ... I 
picked up the receiver as Mr. Foley 
buzzed my signal. I thought he wanted 
to give me some dictation so I was 
reaching for my book, but instead he 
said. "How about lunch today?" 

I didn't dare answer right away — not 
after what happened last night. He's 
too darned clever at reading voices. 

sdidtwM 'amttott 

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JAN UARY, I 939 


Civilizing Sabu of India 

f Continued from pa\ 

minded. But it looks more like nn in- 
Hr km ■• kind 

i shy firmness. 

■ ii of army 
H nh bomb- 
up, ho thought the pursuit 
i the 
■ men in the party believed. 
Investigation proved that Sabu, so re- 
cently OUl of the elephant stahle- 
right and that his American elders were 
little disconcerting when 
«■ that he has picked up all 
his information in the brief time he has 
been learning the English language. 

In his off moments, he has been 
studying under special tutors at a school 
he studio, outside of London. 
He plays on the school football team 
and, while in New York, went out to 
watch the Columbia University squad 
oo, apparently with the idea of 
taking a few new tricks back with him. 
But his favorite diversion is iccskating. 
• I skate all day if they let me," bliss- 
fully states the youngster who never 
Ice until he reached England. But 
in no time at all, he's back to the sub- 
ject of motors. How fast are wc al- 
lowed to go on country roads in Amer- 
ica 1 The big car they gave him in 
London can do eighty or ninety on a 
good clear stretch, he boasts. No, he 
isn't allowed to drive it. He can't get 
a license till he's seventeen " — only two 
years now," he murmurs with pride. 

ALL of this does not mean that he has 
given up an interest in elephants — far 
from it — though at first we suspected 
he was a little bored at everyone's talk- 
ing to him about them and at being 
obliged to meet personally, and ride, all 
of the elephants in the zoos of the vari- 
ous cities he visited. When we got to 
the bottom of the matter, however, we 
found that the sober expression at the 
mention of them was due to the fact 
that he thought they ought not to be 
taken to large cities outside of their 
own country. 

"When I get enough money to buy 
my elephant," said Sabu with decision, 
"I shall leave him in India, even if I go 
away. An elephant has no — no home 
life in London or New York." His own 
elephant must have some home life. 
"He must go sometimes into the jun- 
gle." explained the young man in the 
Bond Street clothes and added, with a 
sudden nostalgic impulse, "When I go 
back to India, the first thing — I am 
going into the jungle." 

"Do you want to go back very much?" 
wc asked. 

"Oh — " There was real emotion un- 
der his voice, "who does not want to 
go where he was born?" 

r P.ABLY one of the reasons for 
irdinate pride In achieving the 
ripe "Id ace of fifteen is that celebrating 
birth <w thing with him. Un- 

til tl. he didn't know his 

The boy's true history sounds like a 

10 Alger books 

and Kipling, with a dash of the stuff 

that miracles are made of. But it does 

not seem unu 3abtL 

Be wai bora In b little village at the 
edge of the jungle in Mysore. His 
mother died when he was very small. 
His father, who was a mahout and al- 
busy with the elephants of the 
taueht one of them, named 
Gudi.'ti, to rock the idle. 

• know how old h< 

when his father died, but it was bl 
he'd e.cit his second teeth. 

Shortly after that, his elephant friend 
went nuisth and had to be bam 
into the jungle. This left the little boy 
v completely on his own. He had 
an older brother, but he wasn't around 
there much. So Sabu stood on his small 
man's feet and faced things for him- 
self. With the munificent dole of sev- 
enty-five cents a month, he managed 
his own affairs. It was not a lavish life, 
he admits, but he seems to think it 
I so bad. 

He learned where to get the cheapest 
rice and discovered that, if he helped 
one man with his garden, he would 
sometimes give him vegetables for it — 
a little overripe, perhaps, but good. 
People were nice to him. But he found 
his best friends in elephants — especially 
a very large one named Iravatha in the 
royal stables. No one minded his play- 
ing there. 

OABU'S greatest ambition was to be a 
mahout. All the other young urchins 
around the stables wanted to be ma- 
houts, too. It's the Hindu gamin's sub- 
stitute for that desire to be a policeman 
that surges in young American breasts. 
He taught the big elephant to pick him 
up in his trunk and set him atop his 
head, instead of following the usual 
elephant driver's custom of making an 
elephant kneel and mounting by way of 
the bent knee. But Sabu's mahoutship 
looked a long way off. 

One day news got around the stables 
that some new white sahibs had come 
and were going to pick a boy to play at 
being a mahout and have his picture 
taken. The whole gang got exited 
over this. So did their parents who — 
although they knew very little about 
such things — instinctively foresaw 
something of the ease enjoyed by par- 
ents who have been wise enough to give 
birth to picture stars. 

Sabu, having no parents to speak for 
him, decided he didn't stand much 
chance. He thought about it a good 
deal, it seems, but rather bleakly. 

One day he went to get his monthly 
stipend. When he came out of the of- 
fice, he saw a strange white man and, 
of course, stared at him. 

The white man stared back. Sabu 
smiled politely. The white fellow spoke 
to him, but Sabu didn't understand 
until someone came along and ex- 
plained that this was the picture man 
and he wanted to know if Sabu would 
be interested in a chance at the much- 
discussed part. Also, did Sabu know 
anything about elephants? 

Sabu happily explained that he knew 
nothing else but. Then, for the first 
time, he got into one of those things 
called an automobile. As he looks back 
from the vantage point of three years, 
it was a very amusing moment, that 
first ride. But, of course, he was just a 
little boy then, you understand. 

HOWEVER, nothing was settled about 
the picture part for quite a while. It 
was almost as bad as casting Scarlett 
O'Hara. They were considering a num- 
ber of other boys. All of them lived 
together and Mr. Flaherty, watching 
them as they played together, learned 
things. Flaherty still does not know 
how he happened to ask Sabu to go 
with him one day to Karapur to film 
some elephants crossing the river. The 
boy was playing alone and suddenly the 
man found himself saying, "Would you 
like to come along?" Sabu would. 

Much to Sabu's amazement, he found 
Iravatha In the herd that had been bor- 
rowed for the river shots. He and the 
big pachyderm did the mounting trick, 
via the trunk, just out of pure joy in 
reunion. Then a request was sent out 
for a mahout to ride the big elephant 
across the river. 

The current was very treacherous 
and the mahouts all refused. So Sabu, 
sitting atop Iravatha, started for the 
water. In midstream, the current got 
the better of them. They were carried 
swiftly down the river. Everybody on 
shore held his breath as the small 
brown scrap of humanity, looking 
smaller and smaller, was drifted toward 
the crocodiles. 

But a mile down, Iravatha, urged on 
by his infinitesimal mahout, made a 
supreme effort and they struggled up 
onto the bank. The others reached 
them as soon as possible. Sabu, beam- 
ing with pride in his elephant friend, 
dashed up to the white gentleman, who 
was looking a bit whiter than usual. 

"Do we get the job?" asked Sabu, 
who had retained his poise and knew a 
psychological moment when he found 
one. They got it — the boy and the ele- 

I ROM then on, he and Iravatha pre- 
tended they were two other fellows. 
Sabu became Toomai and the elephant 
was rechristened Kala Nag. It was not 
until much later that Sabu began to 
learn what acting really meant — which 
may account for the beautiful and 
poignant restraint with which he played 
the more dramatic scenes. The ele- 
phant was sick twice during the pic- 
ture and his understudy, Lakshmi, took 
his place. Sabu did not like that ele- 
phant. He was "very no good." The 
elephant proved it by killing a man. 

Along about this time, Sabu began to 
learn the few words of English neces- 
sary to the film. He also heard about 
birthdays. Somehow, the question of 
his age had to be settled for legal pur- 
poses. But no one was able to give any 
information until they found an old 
man who had lived in Sabu's village. 
He remembered that the boy was born 
on the same day that one of the ele- 
phants in the royal stable had had a 
calf. That, of course, had been noted 
in the palace records. So they looked it 
up and discovered that Sabu and the 
little elephant punk were both twelve 
years old. 

Another incident in Sabu's early life 
is said to have come to light at the same 
time. When he was still a very small 
boy, long before he had ever heard of 
pictures, it seemed that a wild elephant 
came charging out of the jungle into 
the village, which was often invaded by 
one kind of wild animal or another. 
Everybody ran in panic and no one 
stopped to pick up the child who was 
playing in the road. When his fellow 
citizens looked out afterward to see 
what had happened to him, they saw 
the small boy and the wild elephant 
playing together. 

There were also several incidents in 
which Sabu showed this same lack of 
fear while the picture was being made. 
In the old days, Sabu used to explain 
such things easily by saying that he 
knew no harm could come to him be- 
cause, before she had died, his mother, 
who had planned on his growing up 
and being a fine mahout like his father, 
had tied a talisman about his neck and 
said that as long as he wore it and had 
faith he would be safe. But today, 
when asked about such things, Sabu 

looks a little uneasy. He knows that 
most English and American people have 
different ideas. So he just states that 
"elephants are all right if you know 
how to handle them." And with a q 
laugh he adds, "In fact, they even have 
one advantage over motor cars — there's 
no bother with gears and brakes." And 
the conversation is back on safe ground. 

IN the two years since he left India for 
England, he has been pretty busy get- 
ting adjusted to the new ways of life 
and has made only the one picture, 
"Drums," but three new scripts are now 
being readied for him. The next will 
be "The Chief of Bagdad"; after that 
comes "Burmese Silver"; then Kipling's 
"Mowgli," which is, of course, inevi- 

In "Drums," Sabu proved himself as 
much at home on a horse as on an ele- 
phant. Alexander Korda, who had 
promised him a trip to America, decided 
to make good on his promise just at the 
time the new picture was opening. 
"Drums" proved a prophetic title. Ev- 
erybody from New York to California 
was beating drums for Sabu. He was 
invited for polo at the most exclusive 
clubs and was feted by society as though 
he were the son of a maharaja. 

This last bit of news will, no doubt, 
add to the fury of the already indignant 
elect of caste-conscious India, who have 
deluged Korda with letters asking how 
he dared "let Sabu impersonate an In- 
dian prince" in the film. 

Mr. Korda's response was character- 
istic. "The point has not worried me 
in the slightest," he answered, "since I 
have no caste myself." 

Sabu had a grand time in the United 
States. He had already acquired a good 
deal of our slang from American tech- 
nicians in the London studios and from 
an intensive study of American films. 
Even upon arrival in New York, he was 
terminating telephone calls with a brisk 
"Okay," and exclaiming "Oh, boy!" at 
appropriate moments. By the time he 
left, it was predicted that the English 
customs authorities would probably 
have to sort out his vocabulary and put 
a special tax on imported slang before 
letting him back into the country. 

Sabu pursued a steady policy of in- 
quiry from the time he landed here un- 
til he left. He has an intensive way of 
going at things until he gets at the in- 
most core and people who were dele- 
gated to chaperon him hither and yon 
are seriously thinking of memorizing the 
Book of Knowledge before his next 

It is doubtful if any visitor to our 
shores has ever asked so many ques- 
tions or imbibed so many ice-cream 

The young man seems to have done 
a good deal of thinking. Both physi- 
cally and mentally, he appears well-or- 
ganized and the attention he has been 
getting these past three years has in no 
way disturbed his simplicity of manner 
or added any false notes. Perhaps he 
has been much too busy learning all the 
things that make England and Amer- 
ica so different from the country he 
knew before. Or possibly, when you've 
had a whole herd of elephants bow to 
you when you were twelve, you can 
take anything in your stride by the time 
you are fifteen. 

There is a saying in India that ele- 
phants teach wisdom to those whom 
they know well. 

If the unspoiled Sabu is a sample, it 
might be good for many of us to go get 
acquainted with an elephant. 



The Shadow Stage 

THE STORM— Universal 

A WHIRLWIND of action takes place in 
this minor screen story and makes it 
interesting to watch. Charles Bickford 
is a sturdy, he-man wireless operator. 
When his pal, Preston Foster, goes to 
his death at sea, Bickford blames the 
captain, Barton MacLane, and a ter- 
rific brawl ensues. Tom Brown and 
Nan Grey are the romantic pair and 
Andy Devine and Frank Jenks the com- 
ical twosome. 

Tlr MEN WITH WINGS— Paramount 

ALTHOUGH lacking on story and 
therefore suffering from too-much- 
weight-in-the-middle, this presents an 
accurate and, in the main, exciting saga 
of man's conquest of the air from the 
Wright Brothers to Howard Hughes. 
Besides, it's in Technicolor; and this 
offers the opportunity for some breath- 
taking photography. Holding it all to- 
gether is a triangle story in which two 
friends, Ray Milland and Fred Mac- 
Murray, both love Louise Campbell, 
who is new to films and very pretty. 
MacMurray is a daredevil with wan- 
derlust; Milland is a genius who stays 
at home to design planes. Louise falls 
for Fred, of course. Ray suffers like a 
man. Andy Devine, Lynne Overman 
and others do good jobs. See this for 
spectacle, for historic interest, and for 
occasional scenes which unaccountably 
have rather splendid drama. 

• BROTHER RAT— Warners 

THE story of three cadets at V.M.I.— 
the "West Point of the South" — and their 
almost endless troubles made a grand 
play last season. Now comes the film 
version; and it's a honey. Made with 
fervor and a brisk feeling for the psy- 
chology of youth, it departs from the 
usual type of school movie. The stand- 
ard types are absent — in their stead you 
will discover youngsters with imagina- 
tion and brilliant vitality which they 
use to full advantage in conjunction 
with the worldly wisdom that seems to 
be the new possession of modern stu- 
dents. Wayne Morris, a happy-chappy 
with plenty of ideas that somehow go 
wrong; Eddie Albert, all athlete, short 
on brains but a great worrier; and Ron- 
ald Reagan, conservative but a pal in 
need, form the trio who have three aims 
in life. These are wimmen (meaning 
Priscilla Lane, Jane Wyman, Jane 
Bryan) ; graduating from V.M.I. ; and 
winning the ball game. Eventually, 
everything revolves around Eddie, who 
has secretly married La Bryan. She's 
going to have a baby, and he's broke, 
and he'll be fired if anyone finds out. 
All is saved by the fact that friend Jane 
Wyman (a cheery new Warner discov- 
ery with lots of charm) is the Comman- 
der's daughter. Important for its dia- 
logue and the excellent gags, for its 
portrayal of the lighter side of life in 
a military academy, "Brother Rat" also 
has the good fortune to present Mr. 
Albert to Hollywood for the first time. 
He's direct from the stage version, and 
can he act! You'll have a roaring good 
time at this. 

ir SUEZ— 20th Century-Fox 

W ITH all the trappings of a cinema Epic, 
yet somehow without the grand spirit, 
"Suez" is at once a great success — as 
history artistically told — and a notable 
failure as entertainment. Its main at- 
traction is a kind of howling desert 
twister which the studio would like to 
have called a "simoon" (possibly in 
memory of a recent French contractce 

(Continued from page 45) 

there), but which acts like a hurricane 
and an earthquake let loose all at once. 
Except for this disaster, and a dandy 
explosion, you must expect a pretty 
stuffy account of the trials Tyrone 
Power, as Ferdinand de Lesseps, has in 
scooping out the Suez Canal. These 
range from the treachery of Louis Na- 
poleon to the predatory meanderings of 
Annabella. What is really wrong with 
the picture is that there is no sex in it. 
Mr. Power has a kind of honorable yen 
for Loretta Young, who turns him down 
for the crown of France; but this is 
frustration. Annabella throws herself 
at him bodily in the hot desert and you 
are led to believe that he refuses her, 
which is not only disappointing but fra- 
grant of deceit. In the end it all comes 
out — he's in love with a ditch. And by 
this time you are pretty bored with it. 
Miss Young seems a bit bewildered at 
being an Empress; Power has a nice tan 
and gives the performance you are com- 
ing to expect from him. Huzzahs are 
in order for Edward Bromberg's mag- 
nificent portrayal of Prince Said. Pever- 
ell Marley's photography and the 20th 
Century-Fox budget. 


UOLLY, this is a bad picture. Orig- 
inally, there was a good idea in the 
thought that a woman who runs a per- 
sonal service bureau would like a self- 
sustaining kind of man for a husband. 
But Connie Bennett, finding newcomer 
Vincent Price, is no thrill; neither is she 
funny. Writing and direction are non- 
descript. Price, in a good part in a good 
film, probably will do well enough. 
Helen Broderick and Mischa Auer man- 
age to get a few laughs. 



S fresh as a daisy and cheery as spring 
is this warm little story of an everyday 
problem and how to solve it. The cast, 
headed by Judy Garland and Freddie 
Bartholomew, seems to catch and main- 
tain just the right tempo to keep the 
story swinging along. When widow 
Mary Astor decides to marry a man 
she doesn't love, in order to provide se- 
curity for her children, daughter Judy 
Garland and her pal Freddie kidnap 
Mama and little brother Scotty Beckett, 
haul them away in the family trailer. 
Whom should they meet in another 
trailer but handsome Walter Pidgeon! 

The Jack Bennys turn out for Sonja 
Heme's thrilling new ice show 

The children decide that here's the per- 
fect papa for a ready-made family. How 
they finally land him will cause more 
than one good guffaw, it's that funny. 


I HIS heartwarming story, the first in a 
new series, pairs Lionel Barrymore and 
Lew Ayres in the tale of a veteran phy- 
sician and his faith in a young interne. 
When Ayres, who has chosen a city hos- 
pital in preference to his father's coun- 
try practice, lands in trouble it's Barry- 
more, sharp of tongue but kind of heart, 
who proves to be his friend. Both Bar- 
rymore and Ayres handle their jobs 
with competent and sincere artistry. 

INSIDE STORY— 20th Century-Fox 

I HE second in the "Roving Reporter" 
series finds Michael Whalen, as the re- 
porter, involved in a night-club murder. 
When Jean Rogers, who has witnessed 
the murder, seeks safety with Whalen, 
the villain steals her away and attempts 
to kill her. Chick Chandler is again the 
lively cameraman and June Gale the 
comedienne. Ricardo Cortez makes his 
bow in this as a director. Only fair. 


T OR your delight, and probably to your 
surprise, East Side New York's Barbara 
Stanwyck is cast as a screwball Park 
Avenue heiress in this. Carrying her 
role, as well as her furs and jewels, with 
insouciance, Miss Stanwyck runs afoul 
of a murder in the first scene. Almost 
immediately after that she bangs into 
Hank Fonda, who's a newspaper man; 
and there you have the setup. Corpses 
continually disappear, but through it all 
strides Barbara and her clique of good- 
looking, wise-cracking pals, all deter- 
mined to clear up the mystery. The 
dialogue is fresh and naughty; and the 
plot is so well turned you really will 
have trouble guessing whodunnit. Sam 
Levine and Frances Mercer contribute 
and Fonda is engaging as always. 

FIVE OF A KIND— 20th Century-Fox 

UNE cannot help feeling here that Mr. 
Zanuck is resting on Papa Dionne"s 
laurels. The Quints are box office in 
themselves and little effort is made to 
dress up the picture. There's a news- 
paper feud idea, with Claire Trevor and 
Cesar Romero as the principals, and 
something about a faked birth of sex- 
tuplets. If you enjoy watching the 
Quints toddling about, squealing, and 
being almost five years old, okay; oth- 
erwise it's waste. Jean Hersholt still 
plays Dr. Dafoe. 



I HE CITADEL,'' as a book, touched 

the hearts of millions; and now Metro, 
working with English stars in an Eng- 
lish studio, has made a compelling, pow- 
erful motion picture of it. Robert Donat 
plays the young doctor who has ideals 
about medicine and stews in poverty 
until the easy way out presents itself. 
This is an expensive rest home for hy- 
pochondriacs and here he prostitutes 
his talent until his best friend dramati- 
cally shows him the light. Admittedly, 
the doctor's regeneration is a little too 
pat; but you will like Donat's work and 
that also of Rosalind Russell, who plays 
his wife in the best role of her career. 
King Vidor directed, drawing with sure 
finesse every iota of drama, pathos and 
laughter from every scene. Best sup- 
port is given by Ralph Richardson, as 
the drunken, cynical, honest surgeon 
who brings Donat to his senses. 

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discomfort and relief from 
the excess acid condition so I 
i associated with cont- 
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JAN U ARY, 1939 


What Hollywood Is Thinking 

I from page 59) 

rey, Photoplai 
let your daughter corn her I: 

which all of the woman and ninety 

I the men laid •' I •• 

Why not'.' I've 

wrote one woman star, the 
mot! small d:n.Jnht. 

Mainly This is a new world. A 
■ not take can of haraell 

kicked around," said a second 

though not until she is over 
eight. ' third actress, unmar- 

riad hut betrothed. 

And a fourth V. . it she has 
enough. Kid.- ■ em much 

more addlepated and irresponsible tlian 
in my teens " This star is, her- 
self, not yet thirty-five, but she was 
earning her own living at fourteen. 
While most of the men declared them- 
in favor of a career for their 
daughters, they were a little more con- 
itive in their answers. 
-, but not as a fad." said one father. 
'If she starts, she must see her job 

Among the dissenters, one young 
father wrote: "At risk of appearing 
horse and buggy.' I think woman's 
place is in the home. We wouldn't have 
a depression today if so many women 
weren't competing with men for jobs!" 

IF married, what is the subject you 
and your husband, or wife, most fre- 
quently discuss?" 

To this query, twenty-six per cent of 
the women said the future; thirteen per 
cent, money; thirteen per cent, motion 
pictures; ten per cent politics and six 
per cent world affairs, with other an- 
swers mentioning children, sports, 
music, books, art, the "isms." 

"Building toward the future is a vital 
thing in marriage. Naturally my hus- 
band and I talk of it most," said one 
young star. 

"We talk about our future. This 
means in our case, our careers, because 
we are both in pictures," wrote another. 
"Money," wrote a third. "After all, 
you can say what you will, it is money 
that makes a marriage go 'round!" 

One good wife wrote, commendably: 
"Sports. I don't know a baseball from 
a football, but my husband is crazy 
about all kinds of sports and I try to 
be a good wife." 

A fair-sized group — sixteen per cent, 
to be exact — of the married men also 
said they discussed the future oftener 
than anything else, but thirty-two per 
cent said that money and finances held 
first place in their marital conversa- 

"A good many of our discussions and, 
I am sad to relate, all of our quarrels 
bout money," one male star wrote, 
somewhat disconsolately. 

"The thing is." he added, "we are 
trying to save it to forestall a precarious 
future and the present is too expensive 
to make that project successful." 

"Money and what we will do with it 
is our favorite topic." said another, con- 
fiding, also, that: "My wife is non-pro- 
nal and I never made very much 
until so recently that it still is a very 
Other favorite topics of discussion, ac- 
cording to masculine players questioned, 
were world affairs (sixteen per cent 
listed this topic), home building, music, 
pictures, children and social theories. 
Disregarding these, however, one 
bridegroom said, with rcfreshir * hon- 
esty: "We discuss ourselves. Nothing 
else seems quite as important two 
months from your wedding <i 


i ing Photoplay's fifth 
tioii, the 11 in point of view be- 

tween the average Hollywoodita and 
Mr. and Mrs. America, concerning 
final I parent. 

"H'/idt do .v<"i conaider an adequate 

income for marriage'" PHOTOPLAY asked. 

"At least $100.00 a week' said fifty- 

' .'f tlu> Women and fifty- 

.tiid one-half per cent of the men! 

A pretty high figure, you pro' 
Certainly. But incomes are high in the 
picture business compared to those of 
Other industries. And so $100.00 a week 
looks to the average screen player 
about the same as $35.00 to anybody 
else. Moreover, when you consider the 
extra expenses anyone in the movies 
has — photographs to fans, fine clothes 
to be "seen" in, the countless expenses 
of "keeping up appearances" — $100.00 a 
week is about the same as $35.00 a 
week, or perhaps less. 

Sliding down the scale, thirty-three 
per cent of the women chose $50.00 a 
week as an adequate income for mar- 
riage, while only nine per cent selected 
$75.00 a week. Three per cent selected 
between $25.00 and $35.00. A few more 
said: "It depends upon station in life 
and demands from outside interests"; 
still others, that anywhere between 
$25.00 and $50.00 would be fine for a 
childless couple, but that for each child 

children. This would provide funds for 
insurance, education, doctors' bills and 
/encies," wrote another. 

"As low as $30.00 a week, but it should 
be sure!'' said another. He is a big 
star now, but a few years ago he was 
broke and hungry. 

Of all who answered this question, 
only one, a woman, put the sum above 
an approximate $5,000.00 a year. She 
is the daughter of well-to-do parents 
and a ranking star. Her figure was — 
and understandably, after all— $10,000.00 
a year. 

Of the women who thought $100.00 a 
week necessary for marriage, two- 
thirds were married; of those who chose 
$50.00 a week or less, only one-fifth. 
Four-fifths of the men who specified 
$100.00 a week were married, as were 
two-thirds of those who selected $75.00. 
Only a fraction of the men who thought 
$50.00 a week adequate were married. 

PHOTOPLAY'S sixth question was, log- 
ically: "Do you save a certain per cent 
of your income regularly?" 

In response, eighty-four per cent of 
the feminine contingent said yes, and 
eighty-five per cent of the men. 

"Of course," wrote one feminine star, 
"i'd be a fool not to. My big income 
can't last forever." 

But, "Save? Tell me how!" wrote 




your answers to the statements 

on page 69 with these correct 



Kay Francis, 

8. Janet Gaynor, 

15. Douglas Fairbanks, 

Miriam Hopkins 

Norman Foster 




Mae West 
Ann Harding 
Myrna Loy 
Claudette Colbert 

9. John Barrymore 
10. Lionel Barrymore 
1 1 . Joan Crawford 
12. Walter Huston 

16. Lee Tracy 

17. Claudette Colbert 

18. Binnie Barnes, 
Merle Oberon, 
Wendy Barrie 

19. Gary Cooper 


Ralph Morgan 

13. Hugh Herbert 


Clive Brook 

14. Doris Kenyon 

20. May Robson 

there should be from $10.00 to $20.00 
more, weekly. 

In the majority of cases, the "$100.00- 
a-weekers" mentioned this sum because 
it would allow a margin for saving. 
"The future is precarious, especially for 
a movie actress," announced one, 

One of the "$75.00-a-weekers" pointed 
out that she thought she and her hus- 
band could get along on less, but that 
this much money meant "freedom from 
worry and possible squabbles over 

Taking a rather different and not un- 
sound point of view, one young actress 
suggested as adequate, "any steady in- 

Besides the fifty-five and one-half 
per cent of the men who stipulated 
$100.00 as the lowest sum on which a 
married couple can live satisfactorily, 
there were the seventeen per cent who 
chose $75.00 a week; the ten per cent 
who said $50.00; the ten per cent who 
declined to set a figure on the grounds 
that circumstances alter cases, and the 
small group who mentioned $35.00 and 

"I need to make a hundred bucks to 
keep things going right!" wrote one 
married actor. "I've made less and 
we've lived on it, but I wouldn't call it 
adequate. Women are too expensive 
and a man likes his wife to have what 
she wants." 

"At least $100.00 a week if there are 

one perturbed contract player. "It costs 
me money to be in pictures!" This 
player, a beginner, has a private in- 
come. Apparently, she needs it. 

Eighty-five per cent of the men also 
save something regularly, Photoplay's 
questioning revealed. 

"I have a business manager and he 
makes me save, whether I like it or 
not," declared one, recently risen to 

"I should save, but I'm married and 
have two kids and I can't," wrote one 
of the small per cent who revealed him- 
self sails a savings account. 

Of the women who said they saved 
regularly, two-thirds were single. Of 
those who admitted they did not save, 
three-fifths were married. Among the 
men, approximately half boasting sav- 
ings accounts were single. All of the 
men who said they could not save 
money were married. 

EXTENDING its survey to embrace 
other phases of modern existence, 
Photoplay then asked: "Were the time 
and moyiey spent on your educatiem 
worth while?" 

"Yes!" declared eighty-seven and 
one-half per cent of the women, but 
only sixty-two and one-half per cent 
of the men. 

"I went to school only a few years. 
I wish it could have been three times 
that long!" wrote one feminine star. 

"Not much money was spent for my 

education, but, as usual, the best things 
in life are free!" said a second. "Cer- 
tainly," she added, "the time spent was 
worth it and then some!" 

On the other hand, "I went to a so- 
called "smart finishing school'," said one 
of the minority dissatisfied with the re- 
turns on their educational investment. 
"All I learned to do was to ride horse- 
back, balance a teacup and look bored 
at any given social event! My real edu- 
cation has come since I began to make 
my own living. . . . And how!" 

"Definitely!" wrote a large group of 
men who felt satisfied with their edu- 
cation. However, others in this class 
qualified their approval. 

"Well — yes," wrote one, "but college 
less grammar and high school." 

"No!" announced one of the mascu- 
line critics of modern education. "I 
was trained to be an electrical engineer, 
but I had a job in a filling station before 
the movies got me!" 

I ROM education, Photoplay turned to a 
question omnipresent in contemporary 
thought, to wit: "What do you think 
constitutes the greatest danger of an- 
other world war?" 

Here, for the first time, the women 
proved hesitant about answering, with 
twenty-five per cent either leaving the 
space after this question blank or say- 
ing, frankly: "I don't know." The next 
largest group — twenty-two per cent — 
chose Fascism. After that came Commu- 
nism, greed of dictators, bad economic 
conditions, aggression, overpopulation 
and discontent. In selecting Fascism 
and Communism, many expressed be- 
lief that attendant disregard of the 
church and principles of Christianity is 
far more dangerous than other phases of 
these "isms." 

"The arrogance of rulers has been a 
vital factor in war-making of the past, 
and history repeats itself," wrote sev- 
eral others, in effect. 

Without exception, the men had an 
answer to this question, with twenty- 
three per cent choosing dictators as the 
most formidable menace to peace; sev- 
enteen per cent selecting Fascism, its 
principles as well as dangerous greed of 
dictators; ten per cent, propaganda; 
eight per cent, Communism; and the 
rest being fairly well divided in the 
choice of dictators, capitalism, overpop- 
ulation, upset economic conditions and 
"popular hysteria." 

"All the 'isms' are dangerous," wrote 
another. "People should pay more at- 
tention to the blessings of democracy." 

"Propaganda, carefully dished out by 
the Allies, led us into the last war. It 
will do it again if we are not careful," 
said a third, considering, particularly,, 
America's position in the case of war 


HRE you interested, personally, in any 
of the outstanding social theories, such 
as Communism?" 

To this inquiry, seventy-five per cent 
of the women and sixty-seven per cent 
of the men said no. 

"No 'ism' but Americanism interests 
me!" said many of both sexes, emphat- 

"No! And it's too bad more people 
don't pay less attention to Communism 
and such and more to the principles of 
democracy!" said others. 

Several were specific. "Neither Com- 
munism nor Fascism!" they said. 

"No, I am an American!" announced 
one of the men, tersely. 

Another thoughtful male star, taking 
a somewhat broader view of the ques- 



tion, said: "Democracy is, in reality, an 
'ism.' I am vitally interested in Democ- 
racy. The others, only academically." 

The majority of both sexes who said 
yes to this question qualified their an- 
swers by saying they were interested in, 
but not in sympathy with, the two out- 
standing 'isms' — Fascism and Commu- 

"I am interested! I believe that the 
more thoroughly grounded I am in 
knowledge of these social evils, the more 
easily I can combat them!" was one 

Another: "Yes, in the sense that from 
studying all social theories we may 
achieve a truer and happier democracy. 
I do not believe that ignorance is bliss!" 

President roosevelt was the 

choice of forty-nine per cent of the 
women and fifty -five per cent of the 
men in answer to the query: "Whom do 
you consider the outstanding figure in 
world affairs today?" 

Hitler was next, chosen by thirty- 
three per cent of the women and thirty- 
one per cent of the men. British Prime 
Minister Chamberlain was the selection 
of twelve and one-half per cent of both 
men and women. Mussolini was men- 
tioned by many, but always jointly with 
Hitler. Henry Ford, Douglas Corrigan, 
Walter Winchell came in for a vote or 
two, each, from the women; Thomas 
Dewey and Charles Lindbergh were 
mentioned by the men. 

"President Roosevelt because, while 
he has made mistakes, his combined 
idealism and ability are outstanding," 

said a feminine player. 

"President Roosevelt because he is 
president of the United States — not be- 
cause he is a great man," said several 
of the men. 

Unanimously, Hitler was chosen, not 
because of personal greatness, but be- 
cause of his unique position of power. 

"I hate him, but I can't ignore him!" 
said one of the women who put him 
first in importance. 

"Hitler and Mussolini because of their 
threats to democracy," said another. 

The men seemed a little less resent- 
ful of the German Fuehrer, but equally 
inclined to rate him as a world menace. 

"His attitude is similar to Napoleon's. 
He thinks he cannot be beaten," said 

Choice of Chamberlain, without ex- 
ception, was because of his contribution 
to world peace. 

"He acted in the interests of his own 
country first, which was right. But he 
never forgot the welfare of the world," 
was one comment. 

"I believe his ideal of peace at any 
price to be right. Nothing — no country's 
so-called 'territorial integrity' is worth 
the sacrifice of human life in war," was 

The feminine star who voted for 
Winchell said, frankly: "I chose him 
because he is a great influence in my 
particular world — that of the stage and 

I HE question put last by Photoplay 
was: "Do you go to church regularly? 
. . . Occasionally?" 

To this fifty-nine per cent cf (he 
women said occasionally; twenty-two 
per cent regularly, and nineteen per 
cent not at all. The men's answers were: 
seventy-two per cent occasionally; fif- 
teen per cent regularly and twelve per 
cent not at all. 

"I only go occasionally, but my re- 
ligion is always with me," remarked 
one woman star. 

"Occasionally, yes." said a second. 
"But I should go oftener. Mentally. I 

"I have never thought much about 
religion, but the infrequent times I at- 
tend church, I get something out of it," 
admitted one of the men. 

"Church every Sunday brings me a 
certain peace of mind, inexplicable but 
definite," asserted one young actress de- 
claring regular attendance. 

Another said: "I think if more people 
went to church regularly, the world 
would be a better place — just as I am 
a better woman — for so doing." 

On the other hand: "No, I do not go 
to church! I used to, but found nothing 
that I wanted in any of them," declared 
a certain famous woman star. "I be- 
lieve in God, though," she added, "and 
try to practice a religion of my own." 

"Neither my wife nor I go to church 
anymore," admitted another, "because 
we have not gotten much from it. But 
we send our children to Sunday School 
so that they may know what religion 
is all about and pass upon its value, 

Yes — Hollywood does think about 
other things besides the movies! 

Film Folk Have Known 

had better check on our history, Mother. 
We are not really very sure that the 
stories we have told about the rooms 
are entirely correct." Then we had 
photographs taken, in which even some 
of my grandchildren picked out their 
favorite stars to stand by. 

HHEN I was travelling to Los Angeles 
ihis spring, Louise Fazenda got up from 
the table in the dining car to come to 
speak to me. For a second I could not 
place her, for she is one of those who, 
off the stage, is more interested in her 
home and her child and seems to belong 
in that picture. I was particularly glad 
to see her again and on this trip I had 
my first real view of Hollywood and 
some of its studios. 

For the first time I met Shirley Tem- 
ple whose praises I had heard sung 
many times by Secretary Morgenthau 
and Postmaster General Farley. That 
young lady has a way with the gentle- 
men, whether she is on the stage or off, 
and I do not wonder, for she won her 
way to my heart immediately. She re- 
hearsed a part with Jimmy Durante as 
she was told to do and then in a minute 
she was dashing down to sit beside me, 
asking: "How are Sistie and Buzzie?" 

Her mother is, of course, to me a re- 
markable person, for the child is ma- 
ture in certain ways, wise beyond her 
years and yet she hasn't lost the charm 
of childhood. 

Shirley told me in Hollywood that she 
hoped to come East in the summer to 
see the President, so she turned up in 
Washington with her parents and 
everything stopped in the Treasury De- 
partment while the Secretary of the 
Treasury took them through the White 
House and through the Treasury. Then 
she came to New York and my grand- 
children, who were staying with me, 
invited her to come to Hyde Park for 
a picnic. 

(Continued from page 11) 

Sometimes children are sharper crit- 
ics of their own age than we elders, 
but she won her place that day as far 
as all the children were concerned. We 
had to have some pictures taken be- 
cause her own company wanted them, 
and she accepted the fact that this was 
work, and must be done, even telling 
me how I should walk and where I 
should stop! When that was over, she 
let her mother go through the tedious 
performance of pinning up her curls 
and putting on a bandana. After that 
she was free to play with the children. 
My two hung outside the door while 
her hair was being arranged and it 
must have been tantalizing to have 
them ask every few minutes: "Aren't 
you ready, Shirley?" She never com- 
plained and when I asked her later if 
having to be so careful and take so 
much care of her hair was not rather 
trying, she said almost wistfully: "Yes, 
but my mommie does it so well." 

I have an idea that whatever she does, 
she is always going to be a leader and 
if I were asked to pick out the thing 
which is to me most characteristic about 
her, I think it would be her walk. As 
the children all came trooping toward 
us from the house, she was in the lead 
and she remained there all the rest of 
the day. She was as good as any of 
them at devising games to play. She 
had a grand time I think and was quite 
oblivious of the fact that everybody 
who could possibly make up an errand 
to come to that picnic, came. We sud- 
denly discovered that instead of hav- 
ing rather scant service, we could have 
the whole neighborhood waiting on us 
that day. Our three colored maids 
were supplemented by all of our neigh- 
bors and, when the picnic was over, I 
had one or two messages to the effect 
that if they had known that Shirley 
Temple was there, many people would 
have come miles to see her. 

That is where her mother is clever, 
for she never allows anyone to make 
a fuss over Shirley and she expects 
complete obedience; yet she left her 
free to have a good time. 

Ann Gillis, who lunched with us last 
winter, was too shy to say anything in 
the White House, but Tommy Kelly, 
aged twelve, found himself seated be- 
side an army officer who took the trou- 
ble to discover that Tommy did not 
care so much about his acting as he did 
about all the mechanics of the movies 
and together they talked machinery all 
through luncheon. 

Long before I came to Washington 
many and many an artist in the various 
fields of art had sat at our table and 
showed us his work and, strange to say. 
my interest is just as great in the young 
things struggling to begin an artistic 
career along any line as it is in the 
men and women at the top. It is such 
a gamble when they start out. Will 
they have the spark which makes them 
great or not? If they have, all the 
hardship which goes before will be 
worthwhile to them and to those who 
sensed their ability when they were 
young and gave them a helping hand. 
I often think what a thrill it must be 
to those people who bought the first 
Van Goghs. They had to have so much 
confidence in their own judgment and 
to find it vindicated today by the world 
must give them rather a triumphant 
feeling. So it must be to anyone who 
discovers a genius in any of the arts. 

It is said that all artists are hard to 
live with because of their temperaments 
and this may be so, but I know nothing 
pleasanter or more interesting than a 
chance to be in a mixed group of people 
whose interests center in the stage or 
in the wider field of some sort of artistic 
expression. I like them one and all and 
I am even willing to put up with a 
certain amount of temperament. 



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Romantic Recluse 

'Hied from page I'.i) 

And as hi 
that he, himself, chooses tin 


■ ichibitioni 

This i--, Mr Colman agrees, a point 

well taken He aaJd, Parbapi the con- 

iK- further explained by 

a dmittin g that if m I an called 
upon to maka nu affair 

which I am attending in a private ca- 
in sunk, miserably self-con- 
grettably Inadequate. If, on 
the other hand, n script calls for me to 
do a scene in which I must stand up and 
harangue ■ thousand extras, I can ha- 
rangue away for hours and think noth- 
ing of it. Which simply means. I think, 
that as an actor I am neither inhibited 
nor self-conscious; whereas, in my own 
capacity as a man. I am both. 

SB not much of a hand at analyz- 
ing myself. But I have heard of 'split 
Perhaps, in my case, the 
split comes between my screen self and 
my real self. I have never thought of 
this before but it now occurs to me that 
I may have become an actor so that I 
could pretend to be the kind of a fel- 
low I cannot be in real life. 

"To try to explain why the sword- 
swallowing hero I like to play on the 
screen is so different from my unexcit- 
ing self is, for me, a task almost too 
difficult to attempt. T is a subject about 
which I know very little. I am not 
given to introspection. The majority of 
my interests, apart from my work, are 
active interests such as tennis, garden- 
ing, sailing. Which indicates, if I un- 
derstand correctly my cursory readings 
of psychology, that I would be classified 
as an extrovert. 

'My way of living, then," concluded 
Mr. Colman. "probably does date back 
to my childhood. Certainly I learned, 
very early in life, that to make myself 
as unobtrusive as possible was to make 
myself as popular as possible." 

DORN in Richmond, County of Surrey, 
England, Ronald Colman was the fifth 
child in a family of six children. Now 
a fifth child does not occupy any par- 
ticular spotlight in the family circle un- 
less he is in some way exceptional, 
which. Ronald insists, he was not. 

Of the six young Colmans the first- 
born, a boy, died before Ronald was 
born. There were two sisters, Gladys 
and Edith, girls in their teens when 
Ronald was in the nursery. Next to the 
in age came Eric; four years later 
Ronald was born. So that, just at the 
age when the small Ronald was begin- 
ning to feel the shape of his own in- 
dividuality, the sisters were at the ages 
when their beaux and activities de- 
manded — and got — the major portion of 
their parents' attention. 

A small boy is never considered an 
by sisters in their teens and Ron- 
ald was no exception to this rule. More- 
over. Erie's four years seniority placed 
him in a position of overlordship to the 
smaller brother, while Frieda, born 
when Ronald WSJ three years old and 
ned to creep into his heart and 
affections as his best friend and con- 
companion, was, at first, just an- 
other reason for a small boy to b 
quiet and out-of-the-w.v ible. 

It la obvious, then, that the family 

■ could not have contributed very 
much to the boy's sense of sclf-im- 

Charles Colman. the father and very 
much the head of his family, was of the 

old school which holds that children 
should be "seen but not heard." Ron- 
ald, a-. .1 -mall boy, was devoted t 
father, but, admittedly, a little fright- 
of him. 

I joric Colman, whose maiden name 
was FraM i'. was, as mothers usually are, 
softer, more yielding than the father. 
Such confidences as the naturally reti- 
re to anyone he gave to her. 
But the family was large and the dif- 
ferences in the ages of the children 
made too many demands upon the 
mother for her to be able to concen- 
trate for any length of time on any one 
of her brood. 

Ronald does not seem to recall feeling 
any lack in his life because of the im- 
personal bustle of the household. He 
if anything, vaguely grateful for 
it. He preferred to be alone. He liked 
to keep his thoughts to himself. He 
even insisted upon saying his bedtime 
prayers to himself, feeling very silly in- 
deed when a nurse or one of his sisters 
or even his mother came in to overhear 
his devotions. So, from infancy, we dis- 
cover, he guarded his privacy as a pre- 
cious and inviolable possession. 

Once every month Charles Colman 
took one of his sons up to London with 
him to visit his offices in that city. One 

1. And I was ungallantly dis- 
• d when I was told that the muffins 
and tea must be passed to Frieda first 
'because she is a girl.' 

"So, you see, I benefited greatly by 
my trips to Father's offices where I 
heard talk of ships coming in from" the 
Straits Settlements, from India, China, 
Japan. I liked the smell and color of 
what I heard. I am sure that my nos- 
talgia for travel was born as I listened 
to that talk of ships and things ... I 
assured my Father that I would be in 
his business when I grew up. 'But not,' 
I told him, 'in the London offices. I will 
be in command of one of the ships com- 
ing in from the Orient. . . .' 

"I saw my first motion picture with 
my father, too. It was my eleventh 
birthday, I remember, and Father took 
me to the old Earls Court Exhibition. 
It was a catchpenny show, with bands, 
whirligigs, fortune tellers — a very 
dreamland of noise and excitement and 
innocent baits for suckers. I loved it. 
And here again my childhood 'condi- 
tions' my maturity. For I have never 
outgrown my passion for amusement 
parks. Whenever Noel Coward is in 
Hollywood we always give one evening 
to the Venice Pier at Santa Monica, 
where, Noel sharing my enthusiasm, we 


Answers to the Photopl 

ay guessing game on 

pages 26 an 

d 27 are: 

1. Una Merkel 

1 1 . Carols Lombard 

2. Ronald Colman 

12. Joan Bennett 

3. Spencer Tracy 

13. Joan Crawford 

4. Gary Cooper 

14. Barbara Stanwyck 

5. Robert Montgomery 

1 5. Warner Baxter 

6. Merle Oberon 

16. Ginger Rogers 

7. Virginia Bruce 

17. Ann Sothern 

8. Deanna Durbin 

1 8. Cary Grant 

9. George Brent 

19. Tim Holt, Jr. 

10. Mary Astor 

20. Clark Gable 

2 1 . Irene Hervey 

month Eric would go with his father, 
the next month it would be Ronald's 
turn. The object of these pilgrimages 
was the father's desire to implant an in- 
terest in his business in one, or both, of 
his sons. 

The elder Colman was an importer of 
silks from the Orient. And the business 
was thriving enough to supply the fam- 
ily with all of the comforts of living, a 
few of the luxuries. 

"I enjoyed those trips to Father's of- 
fices tremendously," Mr. Colman re- 
members. "They stimulated my imag- 
ination as nothing else did. And my 
imagination needed stimulating, for I 
was not a very imaginative child. I 
didn't care to read fairy tales. I- didn't 
believe in fairies or, indeed, in any- 
thing I couldn't see, touch, hear or taste. 

"I remember being told by my nurse 
that a certain house in our neighbor- 
hood was 'haunted' and my reply was 
a matter-of-fact, 'Nonsense, it just 
needs a coat of paint!' I had none of 
I teams by day or nightmares In- 
night which delight or terrify the high- 
ly-strung child. 

"Nursery tea was, I am afraid, the 

high spot of my day. Toward buns and 

nd jam were all my dreams di- 

'do' the merry-go-rounds, shooting gal- 
leries, ferris wheels and so on. 

"But those years ago at Earls Court 
Father and I came upon an attraction 
which was new, at any rate to me. Over 
a cavernous entrance we saw a sign 
which read: Animated Pictures. What, 
I thought, were they? 

"We paid our admissions and went 
into an inky-black pit. Directly before 
my dilated eyes an express train was 
running out of the tunnel and heading 
straight for the bench upon which father 
and I were seated. The sensation it gave 
me of narrowly escaping a violent death 
did not seem to me to come under the 
heading of amusement. Father laughed 
when, safely out in the open air again, 
I told him what I thought of this di- 
vertissement. Then he said, 'This in- 
vention has a future, son, watch it. It 
is going to make the fortunes of a great 
many people.' 

"Why I remember those words so ex- 
actly all these years later I can't say. 
Because at the time they seemed to me 
to be pretty silly. If that invention was 
going to make money for people, I 
thought. I would not be among them. 
When we got home I told Frieda about 
the pictures that move,' and earnestly 

advised her to stay away from them!" 

In the mind of the grown man those 
early days in Richmond blend into a 
comfortable pattern of days spent in 
the garden with Frieda where they 
shared such projects as rearing expand- 
ing families of guinea pigs, making rab- 
bit hutches, digging holes in the earth 
in the belief that they would reach 

OMALL Ronald, done up in his father's 
waistcoat and silk hat, enjoyed playing 
doctor to the various pets. He listened 
to their heartbeats through long and 
porous milkweeds which imagination 
easily transformed into stethoscopes; 
took temperatures with a glass pendant 
from a windbell which, without any 
mental strain at all, became a clinical 
thermometer. . . . 

"Quite frequently an animal masti- 
cated the thermometer," chuckles Mr. 
Colman, "whereupon the 'doctor' be- 
came a skilled mortician! 

"Of course I went through all the nor- 
mal phases of wanting to be a cabby, a 
fireman on a train, a captain of a cr.r«o 
ship when I grew up. Frieda and I 
agreed that it would be pretty fine to 
see me sitting up there above the heads 
of my fares, cracking a whip and wear- 
ing a battered topper. I also hoped to 
become a fireman on a train. I was 
thrilled whenever I saw an engine roar 
past me in the night, the fires stoked 
by a stalwart, half-naked man who bent 
and rose again in the flames as he fed 
the gigantic bowels of the monster. I 
felt a very little, colorless person by 
comparison. Even then, you see, I 'ad- 
mired' to be a man of venturesome, vio- 
lent action." 

Yes, it was certainly a comfortable, 
rather commonplace childhood that the 
small Ronald led in the bosom of that 
busy family life, on the bosom of the 
rich-earthed countryside. And it was 
the kind of a life which, in no sense, 
prepared him for the Hollywood life, the 
Hollywood ways. 

The family lived well, but carefully. 
The girls had their "best dresses," the 
little boys had "Sunday suits" and were 
taught to keep them carefully brushed 
and hung away against "special occa- 

"We always had plenty of everything 
but we were aware that there were 
limitations. We had plenty of play- 
things, for instance, but few duplicates. 
So that when Eric had a bike he had 
to share it with me and when I had a 
cricket bat I had to let him have his 
turn at it. We learned to share rnd 
share alike as a matter of course. Which 
rather gave us the idea that one fellow 
is not supposed to have more than the 
other fellow. 

"But that they were happy years, 
those early years, of this I am sure. 
Because we never thought about 
whether we were happy or not. It is 
only when we are unhappy that we give 
any thought to it." 

ClIARLES COLMAN died when Ron- 
ald was sixteen. His going was not only 
a deep personal grief to each member 
of his family, but added to the grief 
was a complete upheaval of the familiar 
way of living. For the father's death 
considerably reduced the family cir- 

Ronald was recalled from the Had- 
leigh School of Littlehampton, Sussex, 
which he had been attending. And 
there was no further talk of preparing 
him for Cambridge or Oxford. 



"Leaving school was no great blow to 
me," Mr. Colman told me, '"although I 
liked school well enough. I liked it be- 
cause I felt a certain self-confidence 
when I was in the schoolroom. It is the 
same kind of confidence I feel now 
when I am on a sound stage in a studio. 
On the sound stage I am not Ronald 
Colman, I am an actor with a job to do. 
In the schoolroom I was not Ronnie 
Colman, either, I was a scholar with a 
job to do. When I can sink my personal 
identity in work, I am always well con- 
tent. But I had made no close friends 
at Hadleieh — in fact, up to this point in 
my life, Frieda and I were 'all the 
friends' either of us had — there was no 
Damon to my Pythias at an age when 
cuch friendships are most often formed 
— and so I left the school without an 
emotional wrench, since the ties of the 
mind break less painfully than those of 
the heart. 

'Soon after my father's death, we re- 
moved to the outskirts of London and 
I began the job of job-hunting in the 
city. I was completely lacking in ag- 
gression. I was one of those unfor- 
tunate people born without a conspicu- 
ous vocation. I didn't know what I 
wanted to do or to be. I was willing 
to do the first thing that turned up. In 
fact, that is what I did do. For, while 
I was waiting for one of my applica- 
tions for a clerkship to be answered, I 
ran into a chap I knew who asked me 
how I'd like to do some amateur acting. 
He explained that I might get a chance 
in some of the plays being produced by 
the Bancroft Professional Club or the 
Wyndham Stage Society. These clubs 
were the vogue in London at that time. 
A group of would-be actors engaged the 
services of a professional director, the 
director coached the amateur actors and 
the plays were put in for short runs at 
such theaters as were available. 

"I thought it might be 'fun' to act. 
So I played juvenile roles, atrociously, 
I am sure, in such pieces as "Charley's 
Aunt," 'The Admirable Crichton," '"The 
Private Secretary" and others. It was 

amusing. But I had not the slightest 
idea of becoming an actor. There was 
in my mind an instinctive barrier 
against such an idea. I think my father 
would have hated it had he known. 

"I went to the theater quite often in 
those days, too. And I suppose that the 
great personalities of the London stage 
then, Mr. Lewis Waller, Charles Wynd- 
ham, Forbes-Robertson especially, in- 
fluenced me more than I realized. But 
it never occurred to my conscious mind 
that I had anything in common with 
their world. Any more than, looking 
through a telescope, I thought I had 
anything in common with the workings 
of the zodiac." 

IN course of time, one of Ronald's ap- 
plications was accepted and he became 
an office boy for the Britain Steamship 
Company at a salary of half a pound 
a week, some two dollars and fifty cents 
in our money. He was then seventeen 
years old. There followed three "inex- 
pressibly dreary years" during which 
time he worked his way up to the post 
of junior accountant. This rise in the 
world was made manifest by his en- 
thronement upon an ancient three- 
legged stool placed before an old black 
desk. And by raises in salary which, 
after three years, gave him twelve and 
one-half dollars a week. He says now, 
''My demands on life must have been 
very modest, for I remember thinking 
that it was all deadly monotonous work 
but that otherwise I was doing very 

llURING this time the young man con- 
tinued to play in amateur theatricals 
for the Bancroft Dramatic Club and un- 
doubtedly his escape into the world of 
make-believing made his office work 
endurable. He found other escapes, too. 
He began to read in real earnest, and 
hungrily. He read Shakespeare and the 
vigor and vitality of the bard came 
through to him, quickening his blood, 
giving him an awareness he had not 
had before. He read Scott, Bulwer- 

Lytton, novels, biographies, the odes of 
Keats, the sonnets of Shelley and dis- 
covered a rich, abundant life. He ex- 
tended his interests and activities in 
other ways, too. He enlisted in the 
London Scottish Regiment, an organiza- 
tion similar to the National Guard in 
the United States. And in the regiment, 
for the first time in his life, he made 
friends of his own age. 

"I was shy with girls until I was past 
sixteen," the man whom Hollywood has 
called a "woman-hater" will tell you. 
"But when I became an office boy, I 
discovered that it was more comfortable 
to do as the Romans did, to be one of 
the fellows. And, to be one of the fel- 
lows, a chap had to talk about girls and 
dates and necking parties. To this end 
I went to a few subscription dances 
given in and around London, accepted 
a few invitations to dances in the homes 
of girls I met. Now and again I took 
a girl to dinner and the theater. The 
chief profit and pleasure I derived from 
these excursions, I must ungallantly 
admit, is that it gave me the right to 
talk like the other fellows." 

But the adolescent heart of the young 
Colman was, save for the brief brushing 
of a dream, left untouched. He did be- 
come enamoured of a girl who lived in 
his flat building. She was blond and 
blue-eyed and not much more than a 
child. And he never got past the stage 
of silent adoration so that she is no 
more than a picture framed in his mind. 
But, as a picture, she remains unfaded. 

At the age when he might have been 
romancing, going about socially, he was 
at first too shy. then too short of funds; 
then, just as he had begun to overcome 
these drawbacks — the War came. 

Ronald Colman teas one of the first 
to enlist. War strengthened a convic- 
tion this sensitive man had held from 
early childhood: launched him. on a ca- 
reer that changed his whole Hie. The 
fascinating story of his early theatrical 
days, his first efforts in pictures, his 
marriage — 

February Photoplay 

Howard Sharpe, who has created for Photoplay its magnificent biographies of Sonja Henie, 
Claudette Colbert, Loretta Young, Don Ameche, Tyrone Power and Margaret Sullavan, now 
tackles one of the most unusual men in Hollywood — Melvyn Douglas — whose life story in 
complete detail, with exclusive pictures, begins next month 

Lindbergh's Movie Contract 

close friends. We flew together, he 
stayed overnight at my army quarters 
and, later, we were to plan, with the 
help of a map spread on the floor of 
my living room, the first transcontinen- 
tal air passenger line across the United 

"Slim's" advisors knew of our friend- 
ship; knew, too, that at that time he 
had more confidence in the judgment of 
a fellow flier than in that of anyone 

Accordingly, they summoned me to 
New York from Montgomery, Alabama, 
where I was on maneuvers with the 
First Pursuit Group. 

They wanted me to try to talk him 
out of "this movie idea." 

I flew to New York and talked with 
''Slim." But his advisors had overesti- 
mated my influence; underestimated 
Lindbergh's tenacity. He was not to be 

He did permit me to accompany him 
on his visits to Mr. Hearst's apartments 
on Riverside Drive, where he was hold- 
ing conferences with Mr. Hearst and 
members of M-G-M who were submit- 
ting the plans of the forthcoming pic- 

(Continued from page 61) 

ture for flyer Lindbergh's approval. 

Before this, he had allowed no one to 
go with him to these conferences. I 
was asked by Colonel Breckinridge and 
Harry Guggenheim. Lindbergh's two 
closest friends, to note what occurred 
at these meetings and to dictate a re- 
port to a stenographer in Colonel 
Breckinridge's office as soon as they 
were over. 

This went on for a fortnight. During 
all that time, we were trying to per- 
suade Lindbergh to give up the con- 

He refused. 

Ill ANY prominent men in New York 
brought their influence to bear. Among 
them were Daniel Guggenheim, father 
of Harry Guggenheim, and Herbert 
Bayard Swope, then managing editor of 
the New York World. 

I think "Slim" was most swayed by 
the arguments of Daniel Guggenheim. 
In any event, at one of the conferences. 
Mr. Hearst seemed to sense a change of 
heart on Lindbergh's part. He was not 
unaware of the objections of "Slim's" 
friends. He asked Lindbergh, plainly, if 

he still wished to go through with the 

Lindbergh's hesitation revealed that 
he was no longer sure he wanted to 
make a picture. 

Mr. Hearst asked no more questions. 
He did something, then, for which I 
have always admired him. He brought 
out the contract and tore it up in Lind- 
bergh's presence. 

"You are as much of a hero to me," 
he told "Slim," "as to anyone else in 
the world. If you and your friends feel 
that making a picture will interfere 
with your career in aviation, then I 
want you to know that I will be the last 
man to stand i:; your way." 

Had that picture been made. . . . 

Well, speculation is intriguing. Many 
things that lay ahead of Lindbergh 
might have happened differently. 

And. undoubtedly, Hollywood would 
have produced one of the greatest pic- 
tures of all times. 

About those things, I don't know. 
This is, after all, the story of how one of 
the most ambitious movies of all times, 
starring America's hero, Charles Lind- 
bergh, was not made. 

G A\l E T Y 


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Without Calomel— 
And You'll Jump 
Out of Bed in the 
Morning Rarin ' to Go 

The liver should pour out two pounds of liquid 
bile into your bowels daily. If this bile is not flow- 
ing freely, your food doesn't digest- It just decays 
in the bowels. Gas bloats up your St 
get constipated. Your whole B! 
and yoa feel sour, sunk and the world lu> k3 punk. 

A mere bowel mo vomer- .ithecause. 

It takes those good, old Cart, r Pills 

to get these two pounds of bile flowing freely and 
make you fcvl '"up and up." Harmless, gentle, 
yet amazin'.- in making bile flow fr- A 

Carter's Little Liver 1 - at all 

drug stores. Stubborn!:. .ing else. 

JAN UARY, 1939 

Shirley Temple's Last Letter to Santa 

(Continued from page 9) 

paD-barei me l».i\ t- 

.mother Jimmy 

And I would like t>> 1 
1 pr dun] 

!art (blue .iiul Mil chrek like Bill's 
the cowboy at Hillsdali 
1 pr G-shooti i-, tii wfa*ll I : i«Je the pony 
Mr. Schcnk g.. , men 

of th< I he pony Ls awful smart I 

And if it's not asking to niuih I cer- 
tainly would like the wardrobe that goes 
with Lottie. I bought Lottie myself Jast 
with money 1 mved up. But when 
1 wi nt to the store after her the clerk 
This doll's clothes are extra. And 
I did not have enough. They are on the 
4th floor so you will know and they are 
in a big hatbox marked My Dates. She 
I dress for every day in the week. 
A blue one with a brown fur jacket (my 
favorite) and a red snow suit. 

LAST year I went to that store to see a 
man who said he was you. But I told 
mother He is not the real Santa because 
he said — Well, Shirley I see all your pic- 
tures — and I know you cannot do that 
up at the North Pole. But mother said 
He is a stand-in for Santa. I guess you 
have a lot of stand-ins. 

We had a swell time last Christmas. 

I went to the Assistance League the day 

before and they let me help push the 

as and fill the baskets. Then we 

went home to supper but I could not eat 

much. We always have the Tree on 
A big green one (I do 
not like the white they smell so funny i 
with elictric candles and balls on it. My 
dad puts it on a turn-table which plays 
Silent Night. Only it did not work last 
The tree was to heavy. 

Did you see the Star of Bethlehem lit 
up on the pine tree outside? Sonny put 
that up. He nearly fell. 

We never open presents before Christ- 
mas morning but one kind of opened it- 
self up. There was a terrible scream in 
the kitchen and we all ran out and sit- 
ting right on the floor in a cage was a big 
red macaw. Somebody had brought him 
for me around by the back and he had 
pecked through his paper covering. He 
was screaming at Elizabeth May (she is 
our cook) and Elizabeth May was 
screaming right back at him with a 
broom. My brother Jack said Haha and 
the macaw said Ha ha to and everybody 

Once I got a very nice cow for Christ- 
mas. It was from the children of Tilla- 
mook where the cheese comes from. The 
Xpressman brought it to the studio and 
mother said My goodness where are we 
going to keep it? We tied it to the little 
fence outside my bungalow but it ate 
all the tops off the flowers and the studio 
gardener was pretty mad. I wanted to 
take it home it was so beautiful, only 
we lived in the house on 19 St in Santa 
Monica then and when we phoned dad 

about it he said Well it is a case of keep- 
ing the cow or the car. We have not 
room for both! So a milk farm man 
and got it. It has little cows now. 
Every Christmas morning when I was 
a little girl mother woke me with sleigh 
bells. Now she lets me ring them. My 
dad says 5 is to early so I wait till 6. 
We all go in the room together where 
the family presents are (The other pres- 
ents are downstairs). Granny gave me 
a green sweater she knitted herself last 
year. And there was the nicest kitchen 
store from You with tiny jars and little 
potatoes and lemons and everything for 
my playhouse. I am just learning to 
knit. I made my dad a tie but he has 
not worn it yet. He says he is saving it. 

I LOVE Christmas dinner. Sometimes 
Elizabeth May lets me help. I can not 
cook much xcept biscuits. I make those 
on my little stove out in the playhouse. 
I did when Miss Carrie Jacobs Bond 
came to tea last Monday. (She is com- 
ing to visit me on the set of The Little 
Princess to. 

But Santa when I was washing my 
dishes afterwards my dog Rowdy 
jumped up and broke three cups and 
the tea pot cover. I would like very 
much to have another tea set if it is 
not to much trouble. There is a very 
pretty one (blue with yellow flowers) 
on the 4th floor of that store I told you 
about. And in case your not in a hurry 

could you just sort of look over the new 
Wizard of Oz book? And some of the 
Ranger series? 

Mother says Christmas is a family 
day so we do not go out. We play and 
open presents and it is the Best day of 
the year. But the next day Mary Lou 
and my friends come over. We make 
Christmas last the whole week! In the 
evening my dad drives us around to see 
all the trees lit up outdoors and they 
are so beautiful. One house in Beverly 
Hills has studio snow piled all over the 
yard and raindeer in front. Some time 
I would like to see real snow on Christ- 

Did you see our wreath? A lumber 
Jack man up north made it for me with 
my name on it. It must have been hard 
because holly pricks. People are awfu' 
good. So are you. Please give all my 
friends (like the cripple boy in Spokane 
and the lady from DeTroit who writes 
me every week) extra presents. Thank 
you Santa. (O 

P. S. Mother says Please do not bring 
any more rabbits. I got two darling 
Chinese ones last year and when we 
came back from Honolulu there were 45. 

Corrigan Lands in Hollywood 

(CoJitinued jrom page 60) 

been Doug!_s Corrigan ever since then. 

He saw Doug Fairbanks once. In the 
depot at San Antonio. He was standing 
on the back platform of a train, famous 
smile and all. There was a crowd 
around him and everybody asking for 
his autograph, and everybody proud as 
could be that he could stand there and 
look at a real live movie star. 

Doug managed to get up onto that 
back platform with his bundle of 
papers. And when he got up there, he 
couldn't think of anything to say, 
couldn't think of anything to do ex- 
cept offer the great man a paper. 

Doug Fairbanks took the paper and 
gave Doug Corrigan a dime and a 
friendly smile. The boy treasured that 
dime for years. 


HEN his mother announced she was 
going to take the family to Los Angeles, 
Doug's heart beat so fast it almost 
choked him. Maybe he'd see Doug 
Fairbanks again. Maybe he'd see a lot 
of other movie stars. Maybe — maybe 
someday — oh, just maybe — he'd get a 
job in the movies, might get a chance to 
play in a picture with Doug. 

Be had to forget about being a movie 
actor though, because his mother grew 
to run a roominghouse and 
Doug had to be the breadwinner of the 
famil t a job at $8 a week, 

washing apricots and beans and bottles. 
and in a few years he had run his 
salary up to $25 a week. 

He had to keep on working after his 
mother died. He had to take care of his 
broil ■ ter. 

Be couldn't afford to wait around the 
movie lots until some casting director 
saw him and put him in a picture. He 
had to get meat and potatoes and bread 
and milk for those dependent on him. 

He got a job in a lumber yard and 
gave it up to work in the building line. 

He was a bookkeeper, a timekeeper, a 
storekeeper, a rough carpenter and an 
errand boy, all in one for a time. And 
then he learned to fly. 

His brother and sister grew up and 
married. Doug had no one to support 
now but himself. And that was an easy 
task. He had learned to live on very 
little money. He had grown used to 
eating only one meal a day, supper. 
That seldom cost him more than 
twenty cents, or possibly a quarter. He 
didn't have to buy fancy clothes, for all 
he needed in his business was a pair of 
pants, a shirt or two, a pair of shoes — 
and maybe a leather jacket. 

He seldom saw a movie. He had no 
time. He seldom spoke to a girl. He 
had no time for girls. And he had al- 
ways been shy with them, always a lit- 
tle afraid of them. 

Of course, Doug had his romances. 
But they never amounted to anything — 
except to make him despondent and a 
little bit shyer than he was before. 
There were girls he liked — maybe not 
at first, but certainly after looking at 
them day after day, and dreaming 
about them night after night, and think- 
ing about them when he wasn't ab- 
sorbed in building or flying planes. 

There were girls, all blonde and 
pretty and petite, but they always got 
away from him. Doug couldn't tell a 
girl he liked her. He might feel it deep 
down within him, but he couldn't bring 
the feeling to the surface where the girl 
could see it. 

Yet maybe it was his fate to be a 
movie star and thrill the millions of 
girls he never had a chance to see. 
Who can say no? 

He attained fame in one hop. Ovcr- 
nicht he became a universal hero— and 
told the world he wasn't a hero, only a 
misdirected aviator. Nobody believed 
him and everybody saw something rare 

in him: shyness, faith, diffidence. And 
everybody saw humor in him and gen- 
uine courage. 

How could he help go into the mov- 
ies? The public demanded him. 

He tried to avoid his fate, but he 
couldn't. He declared he would sign no 
moving-picture contract. But moving- 
picture people gave him no rest until 
he signed on the dotted line. 

He agreed that RKO might make a 
picture out of the story of his life. He 
half agreed — and with what reluctance 
— to play a part in that picture. But, 
in that case, he insisted, he wasn't to 
be forced to kiss any girl for the screen. 

"But wait until you see the girl we'll 
put in your picture," a producer said. 
"You'll change your mind then." 

Doug shook his head and grinned. 

That gave the producer a shock. 

"You mean to tell me you wouldn't 
kiss a pretty girl, just for a picture?" 

Doug pointed out that he didn't kiss 
girls in real life and that if he kissed 
them on the screen the picture would 
be untrue. 

"Imagine," a bystander groaned, "he 
wouldn't even kiss a girl for money. 
Big money!" 

Doug laughed and blushed a little. 
Yes, he blushes. But he was still ada- 
mant. He didn't want to kiss any girl 
for the amusement of the public. And, 
if he did — and sometimes a fellow will- 
he didn't want a nickel for it. It didn't 
seem right to take money for that sort 
of thing, even if it was only acting. 

To make matters certain, to insure 
himself against the possibility of being 
drawn into any screen embrace against 
his will, Doug had a clause inserted in 
his contract, a paragraph stating he 
didn't have to make love to anyone 
during the picture or for the picture. 

He signed up with RKO for one film. 

But you know how Hollywood is. 
Once a fellow gets into a picture, once 
he realizes he's an actor, it's hard to 
turn him back into what he was. So, 
it's possible, if not probable, that Doug- 
las "Wrong Way" Corrigan will wind 
up, not as the president of an aviation 
company, like Lindbergh, but as a 
movie star. 

And it's possible, and probable too, 
that thousands of girls will be writing 
to him and asking him to send them his 
photograph and waiting for his next re- 

Corrigan, as a lot of writers have 
pointed out, is unpredictable. So is his 

Right now, Doug intends to finish the 
film and get some sort of aviation job. 

But moving-picture officials have dis- 
covered that he screens remarkably 
well and that he is extremely popular 
not only in the United States but all 
over the world. They have listened 
carefully to the impromptu speeches. 

During his tour across the country, 
Doug had to talk two or three times a 
day. He earned the reputation of being 
a natural wit. And the movie pro- 
ducers liked his voice and his manner 
of talking. 

"He's a natural for the movies," they 

Maybe they can sell Doug that idea, 
as they sold him the idea of taking a 
part in this picture. Maybe they can't. 

I know half a dozen men, older and 
younger than Doug Corrigan, who 
would give their right eyes, if they had 
to, for the chance RKO is giving him. 
So do you. Maybe you know a hun- 
dred, or a thousand. 

Nobody knows what Doug will do or 
won't do. But wait until he's a little 
better adjusted to Hollywood. Then 
you can judge more accurately which 
way "Wrong Way" will fly. 



Casts of Current Pictures 

Warvers. — Screen play by Warren Duff and John 
Wexley. From a story by Rowland Brown. Directed 
by Michael Curtiz. The Cast: Rocky Sullivan, 
James Cagney; Jerry Connelly. Pat O'Brien; Frascr, 
Humphrey Bogart; Laury Ferguson. Ann Sheridan; 
Crab, Hunt* Hall; Pasty. Gabriel Dell; Hunky. 
Bernard Punsley; Soapy, Billy Halop; String, 
Bobby Jordan; Bim, Leo Gorcey; McKcefer, 
George Bancroft; Steve, Ed Pawley; Soapy's 
Mother, Vera Lewis; Maggione Boy, Eddi? Syra- 
cuse; Detective, Jack Mower; Detective, Lee Phelps; 
and the Boys' Choir of St. Brendan's Church. 

Paramount. — -Screen play by Howard Lindsay. 
Russel Crouse and Ken Englund. Original story 
by Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse. Directed 
by Mitchell Leisen. The Cast: Buck Boswell, Jack 
Benny; Patricia Harper, Joan Bennett; Mrs. Isabel 
Chanting, Mary Boland; James Harper, Charles 
Grapewin; Chickie. Joyce Compton; Swif'y. Dopey, 
Jimmy. Kelly. The Yacht Club Boys; FJiot Win- 
throp, G. P. Huntley; Punkins. Punkins Parker; 
Becky, Sheila Darcy; Red, Yvonne Duval: 
America, Gwen Kenyon; Jersey, Joyce Mathews; 
Dodie, Dolores Casey; Kansas, Marie DeForrest; 
Madame Brissard, Adrienne D'Ambricourt; Briss~ 
3rd, Andre Cheron; Cabby, Louis Mercier; Porter. 
Louis Yan den Ecker; Grocery Boy, Charles de 
Ravenne; Waiter, Joseph Romantini. 

■ BLOXDIE" — Colvmbia. — Based on the char- 
acters created by Chic Young in the comic strip of 
Lhe same name. Original screen play by Richard 
Flournoy. Directed by Frank Strayer. The Cast: 
Blondie. Penny Singleton; Dogwood. Arthur Lake; 
Dot, Dorothy Moore; Baby Dumpling, Larry 
5imms; Alvin, Danny Mummert; Chester, Gordon 
Oliver; Blondie's Mother, Kathleen Lockhart; 
Hadip, Gene Lockhart; Elsie, Ann Doran. 

"BROTHER RAT" — Warners. — Screen play 
>y Richard Macaulay and Jerry Wald. From the 
play by John Monks, Jr., and Fred F. Finklehofife. 
Directed by William Keighley. The Cast: Joyce 
Winfrey, Priscilla Lane; Billy Randolph, Wayne 
Morris; A. Furman Townsend, Jr., Johnnie Davi>; 
Kate Rice, Jane Bryan; "Bing" Edwards, Eddie 
Mbert; Dan Crawford. Ronald Reagan; Claire 
Adams, Jane Wyman; Jenny, Louise Beavers; 
Zolonel Ramm, Henry O'Neill; Captain "Lace- 
Irawers" Rogers, Gordon Oliver; Harley Harrington, 
Larry Williams; Misto Bottome, William Tracey; 
Sirs. Brooks. Jessie Busley; Slim, Olin Howland; 
S'urse, Isabel Withers. 

"CITADEL. THE "—M-G-M.— Screen play by 
[an Dalrymple, Frank Wead and Elizabeth Hill. 
>»ovel by A. J. Cronin. Directed by King Yidor. 
rhe Cast: Andrew. Robert Donat; Christine, Rosa- 
ind Russell; Denny, Ralph Richardson; Dr. Law- 
ord. Rex Harrison; Oxen, Emlyn Williams: Toppy 
leRoy, Penelope Dudley Ward; Ben Chenkin, 
T rancis Sullivan; Mrs. Orlando, Mary Clare; 
Charles Every, Cecil Parker; Mrs. Thornton, Xora 
Swinburne; Joe Morgan, Edward Chapman; Lady 
taebank, Athene Seyler; Mr. Boon, Felix Aylmer; 
Vurse Sharp, Joyce Bland; Mr. Stillman. Percy 
^arsons; Mrs. Page, Dilys Davis; Doctor Page, Basil 
Jill; Dr. A. H. Llewellyn, Joss Ambler. 

"FIYE OF A KIXD"— 20th Century-Fox,— 
Original screen play by Lou Breslow and John 
Patrick. Directed by Herbert I. Leeds. The Cast: 
Vhe Dionne Quintuplets, Themselves; Dr. John 
luke. Jean Hersholt; Christine Nelson, Claire 
[Yevor; Duke Lester, Cesar Romero; Jim Ogden, 
slim Summerville; Dr. Scott Williams, Henry Wil- 
oxon; Libby Long, Inez Courtney; Asa Wyatt, 
Fohn Qualen; Mrs. Waldron, Jane Darwell; Eleanor 
Kingsley, Pauline Moore; Dickie, John Russell; Dr. 
3runo. Andrew Tombes; Sir Basil Crawford, David 
rorrence; Nurse Corday, Marion Byron; Andrew 
rordon, Hamilton MacFadden; Rev. Matthew 
Brand, Spencer Charters; Editor Crane, Charles D. 

"GREAT WALTZ. THE"— M-G-M.— Screen 
)lay by Samuel Hoffenstein and Walter Reisch. 
Driginal story' by Gottfried Reinhardt. Directed be- 
fallen Duvivier. The Cast: Poldi Yogelhuber, Luise 
lainer; Johann Strauss, Femand Gravet; Carta 
Conner, Miliza Korjus; Hofbauer, Hugh Herbert; 
Count Hohenfried, Lionel Atwill; Kienzl, Curt Bois; 
Judelman, Leonid Kinsky; Cellist, Al Shean; Mrs. 
'iofbauer, Minna Gombell; Schiller, George Hous- 
on; Yogelhuber, Bert Roach; Mrs. Yogelhuber, 
Jreta Meyer; Dommayer, Herman Bing; Mrs. 
ttrauss. Alma Kruger; Franz Josef, Henry Hull; 
Yertheimer, Sig Rumann; Coachman, Christian 

"HARD TO GET"— Warn-ers.— Screen play 
>>' Jerry Wald, Maurice Leo and Richard Mac- 
lulay. From an original story' by Wally Klein and 
[oseph Schrank. Directed by Ray Enright. The 
:ast: Bill, Dick Powell; Margaret, Olivia de 
iavilland; Ben Richards, Charles Winninger; 
^oscoe. Allen Jenkins: Case, Melville Cooper; 
Connie, Bonita Granville; Mrs. Richards. Isabel 
leans; Stanley Potter, Grady Sutton; Atwater, 
rhurston Hall; Burke, John Ridgely; Hallie, Penny 
singleton; Judge Harkness, Granville Bates; Shaff, 
lack Mower. 

"INSIDE STORY"— 20th Century-Fox.— 
screen play by Jerry Cady. Based on a story by 
3en Ames Williams. Directed by Ricardo Cortez. 
rhe Cast: Barney Callahan, Michael Wlialen; June 
Y-.i'c. Jean Rogers; Snapper Doolan, Chick Chand- 
er; Gus Brawley, Douglas Fowley; Paul Randall. 
lohn King; Aunt Mary Perkins, Jane Darwell; 
Eunice, June Gale; Uncle Ben Perkins, Spencer 
Charters; Whitey, Theodore von Eltz; Collins, Cliff 
-lark; J. B. Douglas, Charles D. Brown; District 
Attorney. Charles Lane; Flora. Jan Duggan; Dora, 
-ouise Carter; Hopkins, Bert Roach. 

:e>.-tvry-Fox. — Screen play by Ethel Hill. J. P. 
VIcEvoy and Darrell Ware. Directed by Irving 
"ummings. The Cast: Penny, Shirley Temple; Jeff 
Hale. Charles Farrell; Kitty, Joan Davis; Lola, 
\manda Duff; Corporal Jones, Bill Robinson; Gus, 
Bert Lahr; Waters, Franklin Pangborn; Aunt Julia 
Ramsby. Cora Witherspoon; Samuel G. Henshaw, 
Claude Gillingwater. St.; Milton Ramsby, Bennie 
Bartlett; Reporter, Hal. K. Dawson; Candid 
Cameraman, Charles Williams; French Tutor, Eddy 
Conrad; Henshaw' s Assistants, Tony Hughes and 
3rville Caldwell; Gwendolyn. Marilyn Knowlden. 

"LISTEN. DARLING" — M-G-M. — Screen 
play by Elaine Ryan and Anne Morrison Chapin. 
Story by Katherine Brush. Director, Edwin L. 

Marin. The Cast: "Pinkie" Wingate. Judy Gar- 
land; "Buz:" Mitchell, Freddie Barthilomeiv; 
Dottie Wingate, Mary Astor; Richard Thurlmc, 
Walter Pidgeon; J. J. Slattery. Alan Hale; Billie 
Wingate, Scotty Beckett; Abercrombic. Barnett 
Parker; Mr. Drubbs, Gene Lockhart; L'ncle Joe, 
Charley Grapewin. 

— Screen play by Philip G. Epstein. Story by 
Wilson Collison. Directed by Leigh Jason. The 
Cast: Melsa Manton. Barbara Stanwyck; Peter 
Ames. Henry Fonda; Lieut. Brent, Sam Levine; 
Helen Frayne, Frances Mercer: Edward Norris. 
Stanley Ridges; Pat James, Whitney Bourne; Kit 
Beverly, Yicki Lester: Lee Wilson, Ann Evers; Dora 
Fenton, Catherine O'Quinn; Myra Frost, Linda 
Terry; Jane, Eleanor Hansen; Hilda, Hattie 
McDaniels; Sullivan. James Burke; Bat Regan, Paul 
Guilfoyle; Frances Glesk. Penny Singleton; Sheila 
Lane, Leona Maricle; Gloria Hamilton. Kay Sutton; 
Mr. Thomas, Miles Mander; Subway Watchman, 
John Qualen: D. A.'s Secretary, Grady Sutton: Mr. 
X, Olin Howland. 

" MEN WITH WINGS"— Paramount.— Screen 
play by Robert Carson. Directed by William A. 
Wellman. The Cast: Pat Falconer, Fred Mac- 
Murray: Scot! Barnes, Ray Milland; Peggy Ranson, 
Louise Campbell; Joe Gibbs, Andy Devine: Hank 
Rinebow, Lynne Overman; Hiram F. Jenkins, 
Porter Hall; Nick Ranson, Walter Abel; Martha 
Ranson, Kitty Kelly; J. A. Nolan, James Burke: 
Peggy Ranson (S yrs.), Virginia Weidler: Pat 
Falconer (10 yrs.), Donald O'Connor; Scott Barnes 
(10 yrs.). Billy Cook; Colonel Hadley. Willard 
Robertson; Mrs. Hill, Dorothy Tennant. 

"SERVICE DE LUXE"— Universal.— Screen 
play by Leonard Spigelgass. Gertrude Purcell and 
Bruce Manning. Story idea by Vera Casperv. 
Directed by Rowland V. Lee. The Cast: Helen 
Murphy, Constance Bennett; Bob Wade. Vincent 
Price; Robinson, Charlie Ruggles; Pearl, Helen 
Broderick; Audrey, Joy Hodges; Bebenko, Mischa 

"STORM. THE"— Universal.— Screen play- 
by Daniel Moore, Hugh King and Theodore Reeves. 
Directed by Harold King. The Cast: Bob Roberts, 
Charles Bickford; Jack Stacey, Preston Foster; 
Captain Cogswell, Barton MacLane; Jim Roberts, 
Tom Brown; Peggy Phillips. Nan Grey; Third Mate 
Hansen, Andy Devine; Peter Carey. Frank Jenks; 
Captain Kenny, Samuel S. Hinds; Bill Kelly, 
Joseph Sawyer. 

"SUBMARINE PATROL"— 20th Centurv- 
Fox. — From a story by Ray Milholland and 
Charles B. Milholland. Screen play by Rian James. 
Darrell Ware and Jack Yellen. Directed by John 
Ford. The Cast: Perry Townsend, Richard Greene; 
Susan Leeds, Nancy Kelly; Lieut, (j-g) Drake, 
Preston Foster; Captain Leeds, George Bancroft; 
Spuds, Slim Summerville; McAllison, John Car- 
radine; Anne, Joan Valerie; Luigi, Henry Armetta; 
Brett, Douglas Fowley; Rocky, Warren Hymer; Joe 
Du~y. Maxie Rosenbloom; Professor, Elisha Cook. 
Jr.; Sails, J. Farrell MacDonald; Sparks, Robert 
Lowery; Irving, George E. Stone; Olaf, Ward 
Bond; Mr. Pringle. E. E. Clive; Guns McPeek, Jack 
Pennick; Kelly, Charles Tannen; Grainger, Harry 
Strang; Johnny Miller, Dick Hogan; Rear Admiral 
Joseph Mai'.land, Charles Trowbridge. 

"SUEZ" — 2oth Century-Fox. — Screenplay by 
Philip Dunne and Julien Josephson. Based on a 
story by Sam Duncan. Directed by Allan Dwan. 
The Cast: Ferdinand de Lesseps. Tyrone Power; 
Countess Eugenie De Montijo. Loretta Young: Toni 
Pellerin, Annabel la; Prince Said. J. Edward Brom- 
berg; Yicomte Rene De Lalour, Joseph Schildkraut; 
Count Matkieu de Lesseps. Henry Stephenson; 
Marquis Du Brey. Sidney Blackmer; Mohammed 
Alt. Maurice Moscovich; Sergeant Pellerin, Sig 
Rumann; Sir Malcolm Cameron, Nigel Bruce; Ben- 
jamin Disraeli, Miles Mander; Prime Minister, 
George Zucco; Louis Napoleon. Leon Ames; Maria 
De Teba, Rafaela Ottiano; Yictor Hugo, Victor 
Varconi; Bank President, Georges Renavent; Gen- 
eral Changarnier, Frank Reicher; Count Hatzfeldt, 
Carlos de Valdez; Millet, Jacques Lory": M. Ferricr, 
Albert Conti; Fran: Liszt. Brandon Hurst; Mme. 
Paquineau. Marcelle Corday; Duchess, Odette 
Myrtle; Doctor, Egon Brecher; General St. Arnaud, 
Alphonse Martell; Elderly Man. Montague Shaw; 
Campaign Manager, Leonard Mudi. 

"SWEETHEARTS"— M-G-M.— Based on the 
operetta. Book and lyrics by Fred De Gresac. 
Harry B. Smith and Robert B. Smith. Screen play 
by Dorothy Parker and Alan Campbell. Music by 
Victor Herbert; special lyrics by Bob Wright and 
Chet Forrest. Directed by W. S. Van Dyke. The 
Cast: Gwen Marlowe, Jeanette MacDonald; Ernest 
Lane, Nelson Eddy; Felix Lehman, Frank Morgan; 
Hans, Ray Bolder; Kay Jordan, Florence Rice; Leo 
Kronk, Mischa Auer; Oscar Engel, Herman Bing; 
Norman Trumpet!, Reginald Gardiner; Hannah, 
Fay Holden; "Dink," Allyn Joslyn; Appleby, Olin 
Howland; Mrs. Marlowe, Lucile Watson; Augustus, 
Gene Lockhart; Aunt Amelia, Kathleen Lockhart; 
Sheridan, Berton Churchill; Brother, Terry Kilburn; 
Orlando, Raymond Walburn; Harley, Douglas 
McPhail; Una, Betty Jaynes; Benjamin Silver, 
Philip Loeb; Concert Pianist, Dalies Frantz. 

play by Harry Ruskin and Willis Goldbeck. From 
an original story by Max Brand. Directed by 
Harold S. Bucquet. The Cast: Dr. James Kildare, 
Lew Ayres; Dr. Leonard Gillespie, Lionel Barry- 
more; Alice Raymond, Lynne Carver; Wayman, Nat 
Pendleton; Barbara Chanler. Jo Ann Sayers; Dr. 
Steve Kildare, Samuel S. Hinds; Martha Kildare, 
Emma Dunn; Dr. Waller Carew, Walter Kingsford; 
John Hamilton, Truman Bradley; Dr. Lane Porleus, 
Monty Woolley; Mr. Chanler, Pierre Watkin; Mrs. 
Chanler. Nella Walker. 

"YOUNG IN HEART. THE" — Selznick- 
United Artists. — Based on the Saturday Evening 
Post story. "The Gay Banditti," by I. A. R. Wylie. 
Directed by Richard Wallace- The Cast: George- 
Ann Carleton, Janet Gaynor; Richard Carleton. 
Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.; Leslie, Paillette Goddard; 
"Sahib" (Col. Anthony Carleton). Roland Young; 
"Marmy" (Mrs. Carleton). Billie Burke; Duncan 
MacCrae. Richard Carlson; Miss Fortune, Minnie 
Dupree; Mr. Anstruther, Henry Stephenson; Adela 
Jennings, Margaret Early; Mr. Jennings, Charles 
Halton; John Dickey (in photographs), William 
Worthington; Sarah, Eily Malyon; Andrew, Tom 
Ricketts; Lucille, Lya Lys; Kennel Proprietor, Billy 
Be van. 

Pull YoursHf I '»»ci her Kaby 

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Can you eel rid of fifteen pounds of over- 

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if you'll but read what Mama has to tell you. 

That Magic Touch 

My new book. Pull Yourself Together, Baby! con- 
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that magic touch which makes an ugly person charm- 
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E'rl simplv Irresistible. Clamour is a combination of 
ains. character, charm, physical attractiveness, man- 


the answer to the question. 

rets jobs. It wins 

like a mag-net. it keeps bus* 

You Can Develop Glamour 

And. darling, make no mistake about glamour . . . 
you can acquire it . . . you can develop It. If yuu 
wtsh to acquire self-assurance. poi*e and charm, get 
my new book — read it from cover to cover and you'll 
"^ets I've gleaned ft 
rsonalities of the i 

Madame Sylvia 

The price of Pull Yourself Together, Saby' l« only 
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Brief Reviews 

(Continue/ from p, 



HOLD THAT CO ED-20th CenturyFoi 

• I AM THE LAW-ColumbU 


N Y 

• IF I WERE K I NG-Pir amount 

I'LL GIVE A MILLION-20th Century-Fox 

ii iiiIm r 
: wing. 


tunny in 11 

■ . . lollfl 

In the 


■ t their 

- -I con- 

P trick. 

jliful through the 


under-tandins of the problem* of 


- .i re- 
el and 





... . . 

hnng her pi 

Fallen in lnve 
Murpliy before the climax. Swell. 


is his 
triumi i '-nt ye.irnin 

i Turner and Ann Rutherford 

I the Hardy 

-' me. Mother 


go. <• 


lie when real 

! funny, 

le. I-ots 


r more 

' than 

in who 
di >pted 


■ dficent 

m more, Rob rt M 

mrnti t Yellow orchid* to Ibis. 

MEET THE GIRLS-20th Century-Foi 


'I.* ry. 



.ind murmur - 

MR. CHUMP-Warners 

ii m about .m unemployed 




I player und 
lie II nuke \"U laugh in tin 

MR. MOTO'S LAST WARNING— 20th Century- 

. htlv dragging film, not the best of the Molo 
!'• lei l Dm Hi- lime preventi the d< 

i b) RJi .it.! 
. .'ini.i Field grabs ofl the p 
with It'i "in. ,11." Jut 


thful rendition of an American claaic Vou 
widow (Fay Bainter) who takes In boardei 

I her family (Anne Shirley, Ruby 

■ i n and a delightful lot, Donnie 

Diinagan) when tin ir livelihood i- about to he taken 

from them. June* Ellison is the girls' beau, (pet.) 

MY LUCKY STAR-20th Century-Fox 
a loo mediocre college him. until Sonja Henle 

n the iee -then thi magic. 

Kngh I Impossible) 

i~ i.ei again a play- 

ilglil in the clutches of gold-diggei i 
Hovi. 1 .ely ballet and for 

her smiling H-lf. (.Vov.) 


l. on a double bill you will grab this uttle 
melodrama of gangsters and iron lungs. Relax. It's 

ROAD DEMON-20th Century-Fox 

nturr pii tun - draling with tin I 
and Ii Henry Al 

.. Cambini I 

lit the 

ROAD TO RENO, THE-Universal 

n per- 
divincly, looks ditto. Ti> 
ro in i Ni Lini with 

Rand) Scott 

->n In matrimony. 
Glenda i rrell, Helen Broderick and Alan M 


The iii. el Mantes In the 
that rocked Broadway, It concern- a down-at-tbe- 

l.i.l producer who boards his whole company al a 
hotel. /.;l . n. I t., gel any bread to put 

butter on for them all. Frank Albertson, Donald 
Mai Bride, Philip Loeb and the Mantes then 

will have vou hysterical with laughter at moments. 

SAFETY IN NUMBERS-20th Century-Fox 

The Jones family in one of I iedies 

in tin- series. Jun<- Carlson win-- a radio contc-t; 
Ma Jones then goes on the air. swindlers step in, 
the clan goes to her support and wonderful things 
happen till you arc- pretty hysterical. The usual cast. 

• SISTERS, THE-Warners 

Myron Blinig'a novel dealing with the varying 
romance- of three sifters against a San Francisco 
round in the early '90*8, emerges on the 
I emotional drama - of the 
year. Emphasized i- the marriage of Bette 1 1 
a drunken, Irresponsible newspaper man, 
Flynn. Vnita Louise, Jane Bryan, Beulah Bondi and 
Henry Traverf are outstanding. <>n your "must" 


Capitalizing on the excitement incident to avia- 
tion headline, this turns out to be an anemic run- 
of-the-mill flying picture crammed with pseudo- 

■(■ < < iNhltliSS OF AUGUST 24. (912, AND MARCH 3, 1933, oi PHOTOPLAY, published monthly 
«o. Illinois, for October 1, 19JS. 
Stat*" of New York I bs. 
County of New York f 

Before me, a notary public in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared Ruth Wat I 
who, having been duly sworn according to la nd Bays that she is the Editor of the PHOTO- 

PLAY an<i that the following is, to the best of her knowledge and belief, a true statement of the ownership, 
managemi at and >t ■ duly paper, the circulation), etc., of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in tna 
Bption, required by the Act of August 24. 1912, as amended by the Act of March 3, 1933, embodied in 
S W, Postal Laws and Regulations, piintcd on the reverse of this form, to wit: 

1. That the names and addresses of the publisher, editor, managing editor, and business managers an-: 
Publlaher. Macfadden Publications. Inc., 122 E. 42d St., New York City: Editor, Ruth Waterbury, 122 E. 
42d St., New York City; Managing Editor, None; Business Managers, None. 

2. That the owner is: (If owned by a corporation, its name and address must be stated and also immedi- 
ately thereunder the names and add ress es of stockholders owning or holding one per cent or more of total 

amount of stock If not owned by a corporation, the names and addr.-s* *s ol the individual own -rs must be 
i r. < ii If owned by a firm, company, or other Unincorporated concern, its name and address, as well as those 
of each individual member, must be given. Owner: Macfadden Publications. Inc., 122 E 42d St.. New York 
Stockholders in Macfadden Publications. Inc. iBcmarr Macfadden Foundation, Inc.. 122 E. 42d St., 
New York City; Bemari Macfadden. 122 E. 42d St.. New York City. 

3. That the known bondholders, mortagces, and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent or 
more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities are: (If there are none, so state, i None. 

4. That the two paragraphs next above, giving the names of the owners, stockholders, and security holders, 
if any, contain not only the list of Stockholders and Security holders as they appear upon the books of the com- 

it also, in cas-s where the stockholder or security holder appears upon the books of the company as 

trustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the Dame of the person or corporation for whom such trustee ii 
is given: also that the said two paragraphs contain statements embracing affiant's full knowledge and belief as 
to the circumstances and conditions under which stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon the 
books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities in a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner, 
and this affiant has no reason to believe that any other perSO on, or corporation has any interest 

direct or indirect in the said stock, bonds, or other securities than as so stated by her. 

5. That th» average numbi-r of copies of each issue of this publication sold or distributed, through the 

mails oi otherwise, to paid subscrib rs during the twelve months preceding the date shown above is 

(Thi* information is required from daily publications only.) 

Sworn to and subscribed before me this 8th day of September, 1938. 


Notary Public \\ i sf h< Btei County 

ate Filed In N N Co No 411 

N.Y. Co Register's No. 9 R 284 

Commission Expires March 30, 1939 

not bad. Bob Livingston plays the reporter who 
t hijackeri with a respirator to help Bob 
Armstrong's sick brother. June Travis is < 

look I 

thrills. Chester Morris and Richard Dix are the 
two pilots, of course, in love with the same dame, 
Joan Fontaine, who is certainly pretty. So-So. 


■ Ight ihortt, Mickey Mi 

father ii the ineffable amusement in 

animated carl the Hull." "The 

I'gly Duckling," "Mother G Holly- 

wood," ''Donald's Lucky Day," "The Pi 
Pig." I Wilbur," "The Brave Little 

Talloi Symphony" . • • we hope 

ii and every 


In tin- Gene Aul the ringing > 

■ ■ 
. . 

ride without assorted bad men 
I t them, but 

Dm .) 


A nother 

ng lilt, 
Robert Youn ■• «rllh 

Ruth i Inn proud I ■■» 


A thinly veiled character study of Proaecntor 

Dewey 01 New York (who said "no s,,.ip" when 
permission to use his name), this lakes 

Chester Morris into gang-busting with the n 
exceptional support of Bruce Cabot and Frances 
Mercer. P.S. The racket is smashed. (Oct.) 


iik)' , Americanism patriotically glorified in this 
sentimental piece concerning a former sold', 

i orably discharged and the effect of this on ins 

as who wish to join the Legion. Tim Holt, 
Billy Cook, Hilly Lee, Lynne overman and I 
beth Patterson contribute touching momenta 


A high-spirited tale of friendship between two 

lenry Funda Rafl I in thi 

■ mi n feud - In the salmon « I 

tin- i- sometimes an epic, often an error. 

IDol Lamoui are "the women," 

hui Slicker, the seal, steals the show. The photog* 

raphy and tighis m jn-rlj -ao is John 


I dm t-. tlii i- another In 

lass. Wallace Beery has 
again Iii id-eyi d "< hamp" rod ■ diti d 

ney, with a la ,lt o| gold, 

I- hi- ! I Hamilton anil \l 

t support. 1 

l.. . j,i. . 


Three had men on a horse, the Ritz Brothers, skim 
throui lory with their usual balml- 

ihn and 1'hylli- Hr...,k 
land behind the •■■■ 
Ethel Mermai 


Cops and i played again with Bruce 

urprisinnly <>n the ride of the law. You'll 
remember Tommy Ryan, a youthful newcomer. 
who i- finally persuaded by Cabot that then 

gain in nun-. Beverly Roberts i- adequate 
girl in love with the policeman. 

• TEXANS, The— Paramount 

The marvelous hokum of Indian raid-, stam- 
pede-, blizzards and dust -torms which i>e--et a 
Texas family on a trek to Kan-as with 10.000 head 
of cattle after the Civil War. i- spectacularly 
effective here. Joan B* ma and Randy S< 
i , too dewey-eyed torn: Ice thi r romance • xritinp, 
but May Robson a- the Kr.aidin.i i- -plendid. {Oct.) 


k mi another triumph for Ueanna Durbin's 
sin«inK in this story of a ynuni! uirl's infatuation for 
an older man (Melvyn Douglas) and her reaction to 
the pange of tir-t love In i , l<:, h , nd John Ilalli- 

Deanna'e parent! 
an exceptional support. Delightful, ill,,.) 


A dated story on the "It Happened One Night" 
angle with Freddie March mi-cast a- the newsman 
charing Virginia Bruce, an heiress bored with her 
dough. Palsy Kelly i- Cinny'- shop-girl friend and 
ei-t- any laughs there are. If >■ 
the goofy school. (Dtc.) 


All the ingredients in this pie are A-No. 1. It offers 
Bob Montgomery as an author, his old-time r61e 
as sophisticate, Janet Gaynor as the naive little 
country wench whom he falls in love with on a 
lecture tour. Franchot Tone is a playboy pul 
also nuts about Janet. The dialogue i- pari:, 
good and all the principals are at their best. i.Vcw.) 


A spectacular aaga of newareel men and an 
aviatrix, filled with explosive action and suspense. 
Gable is at lus exuberant best ,,. the -k- camera- 
man who uses his charm to entice flyer Myrna Loy 

to fake a few shot-, finally wins her from rival 
Walter Pidgeon in fine style. If you liked "Test 
Pilot." you'll be nuts about this sequel. (Dec.) 


John Howard is the smart-aleck ace football hero 
who comes to West Point, takes a beating because 
he isn't "regular." Mary Carlisle, the Mi 
daughter, then puts in her oar. and Love and the 
Army team set out to win. Straight autumn cinema. 


We thought we had said finis to screwball 
comedies schooled in an asylum, hut no . . . Dennis 
O'Keefe and Florence Rice arc pretty dizzy in this 
one. marrying in haste and repenting in leisure. 
Reginald Owen is perfect as the capitalist father 
who wants miracles *>f service because he p. 
taxes, doesn't he? {Dec.) 


Buttressed with maRnificent natural scenery in 
Technicolor and heavy action in the way ot fistic 
encounters. Petel Ii. Kyne's rugged story of the 
California redwoods adds up thus — boy has luml«r 
projKTty, villain has mortgage, both want girl. 
Wayne Morris, Charles Bickford and Claire Trevor 
play their straightforward roles in character. Worth 
seeing. (.Vor.) 


■id of the roving-rep-. rter -eries this again 
has Michael Whalen Scoring .is the Hip-crack news- 
man solving murders. Harold Huber, a practical- 
joke minded, night-club man is ,t riot; Joan V 
bury and Jean Rogers sing and dance delightfully 
to round up things in a snappy way. (Nov.) 

Prank Capra has miraculously transferred the 

daffy doings of Grandpa 1 anderhof from thi 

to the screen. An appealing love story, a subtle 
commentary on American life filled with delicious 
humor, a slick job of casting and acting — what more 
do you want? Lionel Barrymore, Spring Byington, 
Jimmy Stewart, Jean Arthur, ELdward Arnold, 
Miacba Auer— each is beautiful. 


There N something satisfying in this unpreten- 
tious picture ot a girl's attempts to follow the adage 
"the way to .1 man's heart i- through ] 
JtM-l McCrea couldn't be bettei .^ the k 
farmer boy who yearns foi 

prettily adequate .i> the shop girl who wants a fire* 
Bide. Lots oi chuck, 





n a 


lou want to be popular. \ou want to be liked 1 
. . . loved— you want to be attractive to men. 
don't you? ^S ell you can be— you can acquire 
glamour, charm, personality. Aou can be the 

Girl in a Million. Nol by sitting back and 
wishing for popularity to come your wav — 
but by turning your minus qualities into plus 
qualities. \es. you can be a lovely, radiant, be- 
witching person if you but check your unde- 
sirable traits and magnify your good one-. 

Bear in mind that people aren't born with 
dynamic personalities— but they acquire them 
. . . they develop them. And so can you if you 
know bow to go about it. 

In Madame Sylvia's new book. Pull Yourself 
Together. Baby! the famous adviser to the 
Hollywood stars describes hundreds of ways 
to develop charm, glamour, personality. In 
this great book Madame Sylvia takes you 
aside and points out those undesirable traits 
which might be holding you back. She tells 
you how to handle every obstacle that might 
be in your way. She reveals all the secrets she 
has gleaned from studying the loveliest per- 
sonalities of the stage and screen. 

Pull Yourself Together. Baby! is packed solid 
with tricks and stunts which will make you 
stand out from the crowd. It contains new in- 
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make-up. clothes and simple ways to acquire 
self-assurance and poise. 

Here is a book that you will want to read and 
re-read. A book that you will want to live 
with, day after day. year after year. It's a 
book that you will treasure as one of vour 
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The cost of this helpful, inspiring, profusely 
illustrated book is but one dollar. Get a copv 
of Pull Yourself Together, Baby! and put 
yourself in the Girl in a Million class. If this 
wonder-book is not obtainable at your de- 
partment or book store, use the convenient 
coupon at the right. 


If you haven't reaJ No More Alibis by 
Madame Sylvia, get a copy of this na- 
tional best-seller at once. This book con- 
tains the very beauty treatments which 
have made Sylvia a power in Hollywood. 
Price ?1.00 postpaid. 

w^ 1 







Macfadden Book Company. Inc. 

Dept. P-l, 205 Ea ? t 12nd St, New York, V t . 

Send me the Sy K i.i of Bollywood book- cheeked below. I 
enclose - 

^2 Pull Yourself Together, Baby! 11.00 postage prepaid. 
□ \n More Alibis. $1.00 postage prepaid. 



Citv State 

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. . . and to everybody 
more smoking pleasure 

Chesterfield Cigarettes in their 
attractive Christmas cartons 
appeal to everyone. Their 
refreshing mildness and better 
taste give smokers everywhere 
more pleasure. 

Copyright 1938, Ljccnr & Mvirs ToiiAiro Co 


Hollywood Girls On 


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Die gentle, 


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fit >es Super-cleansing 
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Tttticks film which dulls the 
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of delightful freshness in the entire I 
mouth— and that freshness lasts! 

If vou want luster that dazzles, if 
you want to guard against decay in- 
telligently, start using the new for- 
mula. I.isterine Tooth Paste with 
Luster- foam detergent. 

Get it from your drug counter to- 
morrow. In two economical sizes: 
Regular 25e, and Double Size, 4(X, 
actually containing more than '/4 lb. 
of this new, mouth stimulating denti- 

LAMBJ R i I'll vkm.u :al Co., St. Louis, Mo. 



Thorne Smith's Famous Topper is on the Loose 
Again... with his Vanishing Girl-Friend and Her 
Bag of Tricks!... Disappearing Bathing Trunks... 
Driverless Taxis. ..Riderless Bicycles... Invisible 
Jail-Breaks. ..Dissolving Rhumba Dancers! 

ECTOPLASM runs riot and blazes a trail of 
hilarity from Fifth Avenue to the French Riviera! 


They Built a New America with 
Glory and Guns . . . They Were 
MEN That Women Could Love! 

The grandest advenlure-romance 
since "Cimarron" stormed the screen... 

crowded with 


'on and thrills! 

& & 








Oif«c»« d b * 

The greatest 
star on thi 

screen I 

We decided that what this country needed was a 
column. Henceforth, fellow readers, you may whet 
your screen appetites on some little tid-bits direct 
from the studios of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. 

* • • * 

CLASS OF '39— attention ! What is M-G-M? Answer: 
The leading motion picture company. 

Question: What are some of the forthcoming produc- 
tions of M-G-M? 


"IDIOT'S DELIGHT" (from the famous play). 
Starring Norma Shearer and Clark Gable. 

"I TAKE THIS WOMAN."StarringSpencer Tracy 
and presenting the new glamour girl, Hedy Lamarr. 

"HONOLULU" (wicky wacky wonderful). Star- 
ring Eleanor Powell with Robert Young and Burns 
and Allen. 

"ICE FOLLIES OF 1939" (a new idea in musical 
drama). Starring Joan Crawford and James Stewart. 
Question? What is the outstanding current produc- 
tion of M-G-M? 


• • • • 

Thank you, class! Now there will be a short recess 
to allow all of you to attend your nearest theatre 
showing this M-G-M attraction. 


All those who address Leo, M-G-M Studios, Culver 
City, Cal., will receive a beautiful photograph of 
Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy, the sweet- 
hearts of "Sweethearts." 

"Sweethearts" is dedicated to all the lovers in all the 
world. This is a new idea. Pictures have been dedi- 
cated to mothers, to doctors, to families, to boys, to 
sailors, but never to lovers. Are you a lover? Well, 
this is National Lover Month. You are initiated when 
you see "Sweethearts," that glamorous and exciting 
Victor Herbert musical thrill. 

It was directed by Sweetheart Van Dyke, produced 
by Sweetheart Stromberg and written by Sweet- 
hearts Dorothy Parker and Alan Campbell. 

• * * * 

In addition to Sweethearts MacDonald and Eddy, 
the cast includes Sweetheart Frank Morgan, Sweet- 
heart Ray Bolger, Sweetheart Florence Rice, and 
that trio of sensational Sweethearts — Herman Bing, 
Mischa Auer, Reginald Gardiner. 

• • • • 

This truly big picture has been filmed entirely in 

• • * * 
Love is sweeping the country. 






>4 T 










On the Cover — Claudette Colbert, Natural Color Photograph by Paul Hesse 
Miss Colbert's costume by courtesy of Bernard Newman, Beverly Hills 

Lovers Courageous — A Photoplav Brevity Marianne 13 

The first of a new type of feature — a touching story of the Don Ameches 

Play Truth and Consequences with Jean Arthur . . Katharine Hartley 14 

Photoplay finds a new way to make those stubborn stars talk 

Melvyn of the Movies Howard Sharpe 16 

Beginning the vivid life of a rebellious youth — Melvyn Douglas 

Hollywood Girls on Their Own Cornelius Vanderbilt, Jr. 18 

The fascinating inside story of filmtown' s working girls 

Love Finds a Dizzy Blonde Kirtley Baskette 21 

An off-screen "Boy Meets Girl" situation catches up with Marie Wilson 

Close Up of The Groarer Claude Binyon 22 

Painted by a master is this hilarious picture of Bing Crosby 

Shattered Commandments Adela Rogers St. Johns 24 

Another in the series of "Forbidden Great Loves of Hollywood" 

Symphony in Serenity Ruth Waterbury 26 

A portrait of a happy wife — Myrna Loy 

Like Ferdinand — He Loves to Smell the Flowers .... Sara Hamilton 28 
Revealing the sentimental side of a "tough guy" — Jimmy Cagney 

Photoplay Fashions Gwenn Walters 53 

Bette Davis opens the fashion section of chic midseason costumes 

Precocity Plus! Sally Reid 65 

Meet Juanita Quigley, Hollywood's newest scene-stealer 

Romantic Recluse Gladys Hall 66 

The private life of a public hero — Ronald Colman 

The Camera Speaks: — 

Photoplay Introduces Its New Color Photographer — Paul Hesse . . 30 

Victorville Rodeo 34 

Another Photoplay exclusive picture story 

Fashions Just for Funl 36 

A gay revival of the styles of yesteryear 

Catch-As Catch-Can 40 

Candid calisthenics of stars with their eyes on the ball 

Zaza 42 

The studio decides what's right — and polite — for Miss Colbert 

Boos and Bouquets 4 

Brief Reviews of Current Pictures 6 

PHOTOPLAY'S Own Beauty Shop Carolyn Van Wyck 8 

Close Ups and Long Shots Ruth Waterbury 10 

Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 45 

The Shadow Stage 48 

We Cover the Studios Jack Wade 50 

Fashion Letter 61 

How Well Do You Know Your Hollywood? 70 

Choose the Best Picture of 1938 90 

VOL Ull., No. 2, FEBRUARY, 1939 

Published Monthly by Macfadden Publications, Inc., 333 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 111. • Bernarr Macladden, President • Irene T. Kennedy, 
Treasurer • Wesley F. Pape, Secretary • General Offices, 205 East 42nd St., New York, N. Y. • Editorial and Advertising Offices, Chanin 
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Copyright, :938, by Macfadden Publications, Inc. Registro Nacional de la Propiedad IntelectuaL 




PbOTOPI x 1 . i\\ 

■ . prizes ;.. ill no longer be 
• appearing on litis page. 

■ OUT r,,l(i,r 

not played fab with us. inasmuch as they 

tubmitted and accepted checks for 

pr'r.ts for them in 

■ hand, many 

t lucked upon this as a 

department and for that reason 

■ d in their spontaneous 

and candid opinions concerning the 

■ : picture industry, its stars or pic- 

It :s^ir aim to give the public a 
n exprrssing its likes and dislikes 

■ ning this great industry. This is 
pagi IIV welcome your 

PHOTOPLAY reserves the right to use gratis 
the letters submitted in whole or in part. 
letters submitted to any contest or depart- 
appearing in Photoplay become 
the property of the magazine. Contribu- 
ill not be returned. Address: Boos 
and Bouquets, PHOTOPLAY, 122 
12nd Street. New York, N. V. 

With Wallace Beery to provide the fights and Florence Rice the 
fadeout kiss, Bob Taylor comes in for another de-glamorizing 
build-up in M-G-M's story of the bitter rivalry between stage- 
coach lines and pioneer railroads in "Stand Up And Fight" 

along being different people and letting the rest 
take care of itself — just like Grandpa said to 
do. Lionel Barrymore is like that, too, not 
afraid of Hollywood and flops. All this cast, 
including the raven, Jim, ought to have some 
kind of a prize. 

I'll take back what I said about that example. 
When I left the show house with "God Bless 
Our Home" in its proper place, I refused to go 
back to the lumber yard for the rest of the 
afternoon. They said they got along just as 


THANK heaven I've been to one picture 
show that set no example anybody could 
follow. Thank heaven for one show that 
featured no disaster or historical epoch. For we 
providers who have gone through the sixth year 
of the New Deal, along with a yellow fever 
epidemic, the Chicago fire, San Francisco earth- 
quake, the French revolution, a simoon, a hur- 
and a Texas stampede need a rest from 
calamity. We even enjoy a moratorium from 
wisecracks and the answers. 

you guessed it. I'm talking about "You 

Take I' With You." the stage play that 

Kaufman and Hart the Pulitzer prize and 

stuck another feather in Frank Capra's already 

thered cap when be turned it into about 

[ol-duro moving picture of the year. 

First about the Bettings. I figure everything 

in those three rooms at Grandpa Vanderhoj's 

ut $150— that is if you leave out 

rks Then there were no orchids, 

no gin bills, no wardrobe-, noth- 

bul Anthony P. KirUy's duds, 

and of course being a banker, lie paid for his 

and Mrs. Kirini's clothes I liked this for it got 

my mind off overhead. 

I like James Stewart who makes love so con- 
founded eas\ You don't have to worry 

whether I oomph or not, or if he made 

three flops, lied be out. This chap just goes 

well without me 
said they would. 

like Grandpa Vanderhof 

K. M. Vaughn, 
Tulsa, Oklahoma. 


IOU are the most attractive movie magazine 
and the one which can really have effect on 
movie trends. So why don't you champion some 
real honest-to-goodness emoting on the screen? 
When girls cry, they don't sound the way the 
girls I know do when they cry — it is always a" 
well-bred sniffle. Not since Clark Gable man- 
handled Norma Shearer and Jimmy Cagney 
pushed that grapefruit in Mae Clark's face have 
the actors been anything but gentlemen or else 
dyed-in-the-wool villains. 

It must be against some movie law for a man 
to look as though he'd like to make more than 
a halfhearted pass at some luscious dame like 
Hedy Lamarr or Andrea Leeds. Sure, I know 
that the movies have cut down on bad taste, 
thanks to Will Hays and the League of Decency, 
but that ought not to keep actors from being 
human enough to kiss Myrna Loy longer than 
five seconds. Wouldn't you like to see someone 
act like Jean Harlow, when she was an obvious, 
but thoroughly satisfying wench in her screen 

Your campaign for simplicity helped bring 
movie audiences pictures like "Four Daughters." 

How's for promoting us a little more punch and 

Bob Finlay, 
Glen Allan, Mass. 


I WANT to say something about my very spe- 
cial favorite, Deanna Durbin. I am a young 
fellow, eighteen years old, and am simply, un- 
controllably nuts, foggy, goofy, and else-what 
over this nightingale of the fillums. 

I recently became a member of the Deanna 
Durbin Devotees and have been doing nip-ups 
ever since I received my card of membership, 
which I carry with me always. 

Why shouldn't I like her? When a guy de- 
pends upon the movies for entertainment, he 
wants the movies to give it to him. Deanna 
Durbin gives it to me — right smack-dab be- 
tween the eyes and the surrounding territory 
of my heart. Her freshness, vitality, youthful 
loveliness and extreme beauty are unsurpassed. 

I heard Deanna when she made her debut on 
the Eddie Cantor hour and, when Eddie said 
she was only thirteen, I was ready to call him 
a fibber. Who ever heard of a thirteen-year- 
old singing "II Bacio" with a voice like that? 
But, a thirteen-year-old did sing "II Bacio" 
and with a voice like that too! 

A columnist recently said "Hollywood is a 
place where: Deanna Durbin gets bad marks in 
arithmetic."' I knew we had something in 

So, I'd like to meet Deanna for the following 
reasons — to see if she is as natural off screen as 
on. to see if she is as lovely off as on and to 
have a real talk with her. 

What would she and I talk about? Arithmetic, 
of course! 

Arthur G. Barrett, 

Norfolk, Virginia. 
(Continued on page 84) 


Ask your theatre manager for KENTUCKY 


end WALTER BRENNAN • douglas dumbrille 


Photographed in TECHNICOLOR 

Directed by David Butler • Associote Producer Gene Morkey • Screen P'cy by 
Lamar Trotti and John Taintor Foote • From the story "The Look of Eaglei" by John Tolntor Foote 

A 20th Century-Fox Picture 
DARRYL F. ZANUCK in Charge of Production 

BRUARY, I 939 

Consult This Movie Shopping Guide and 
Save Your Time, Money and Disposition 

> I I 






BLACKWEll'S ISLANO-Warners 48 

Umttd Artists 88 




EVERYBODY'S BABY-20th Century-Fox 88 



LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE-Colonial-Paramount 88 

Universal 88 


PARDON OUR NERVE— 20th Century-Fox 88 

Radio 88 
PRISON WITHOUT BARS-Korda-Unlted Artists 88 

SAY IT IN FRENCH-Paramount . . 
SECRETS OF A NURSE-Universal . . 



SWING THAT CHEER— Universal ... 88 
THANKS FOR EVERYTHING-20th Century-Fox 49 
TRADE WINDS— Wanger-United Artists . 48 

UP THE RIVER-ZOtti Century-Fox .49 


/#' > 





Glorifying the transcontinental air derbies in 20th Century-Fox's "Tailspin," Alice 
Faye and Kane Richmond continue to float through clouds even when grounded 

ALWAYS IN TROUBLE-20th Century-Fox 

Jane Withers, of course, is always in hot water and gets in deeper 

mily who becomes rich overnight and can't 

When they become stranded on an island with smugglers. 

ual wit. foils the crooks and brings her Family 

back u . • 


uspense, pace and a magnificent 

c »-i in. ike tin- by all odd- the best crime picture since "Scarface." 

• uncompromising dory of two friends one a gangster 

Pit O'Brien) — and their 

n .luen- r evil ■ in a gang of young toughs (The "Dead- 

to !*• appreciated. (Jan. I 


With ■ mi. home. pun anecdote of an itinerant 

to Will Roger- becomes even more 

apparcir tCf is the widow who-e new-pa[M-r BUTD8 saves 

. Parker and John Beal are heart to heart and 
Irving Cobb i» immense as the village constable. Family fare. (Dec.) 


I multitude ol gag-. 
ndition and rnough story to keep things 
rolling. Jack Benny i -duccr who tries by hook 

and crook to keep bis troop of beauties in Paris one jump ahead 
of the p Bennett, Mary Boland and the Yacht Club 

Boys -upply the fun Jan.) 


l>t Jui 

■ r ! in Sawyerish 
mart-alec as the vapid dialogue 
would make a parent laugh 
at the ur n^ n Jackie Moran, 

Mae Jones. Bradley Metcaff) arc happily chosen and do 


Laurel .ind Hardy spread on the slap 

ning m the trenches for twenty 

visit his pal 

ielL The lun ii immediately on 

I ■ 


■ d by millions. 
t be mildly important Penny Singleton is Blondu; 

Arthur I 

in. Dafssoo • 

.ill l.iugh Jan ) 



'■lunding ol mmunity for 

I Flanagan, 

•- and 

• - ' lion o 

Hollywood should be proud of such a picture. 

BREAKING THE ICE— Principal-RKO-Radio 

It helps tremendously to have five-year-ofd figure-skater Iren? 
Dare make her screen debut in this latest of Bobby Breen's singin; 
pictures. Bobby, at this point a Mennonite, runs away from the 
colony, joins an ice-skating troupe. Dolores Costello is nicely sac- 
charine as Bobby's mother. {Nov.) 

• BROTHER RAT-Warners 

Made with fervor and frankness, this tale of three cadets at 
Virginia Military Academy departs from the usual style of campus 
drama. Wayne Morris, Eddie Albert and Ronald Reagan have 
three ideas — wimmen (Priscilla Lane, Jane Wyman and Jane 
Bryan) graduating, and winning the ball game. Everything is 
jake at the end. A honey. (Jan.) 


Betty Grable, Eleanore Whitney and Bill Henry, perennial col- 
lege -eniors, scamper around, but the plot centers abaut Hank 
Luisetti. basketball star, who proves that athletics belong in any 
college curriculum. (Dec.) 


The team of Rogers and Astaire is back, as light on their collective 

feet as ever. Fred is a psychoanalyst, Ginger is his patient. Over 

all their antics, and the best dance routines the couple has ever 

', soar the lovely lilting melodies of Irving Berlin's latest 

songs. Guaranteed to put you in a gay mood. (Nov.) 


Made by the M-G-M unit in England, A. J. Cronin's touching 
novel emerges as a powerful study of an idealistic young doctor 
who stews in poverty until an easy way out presents itself, is later 
led by his best friend and his loyal wife. The sure finesse 
of Robert Rosalind Russell and Ralph Richardson makes 
it doubly important for you to see this. iVmi.) 

• DOWN ON THE FARM-20th Century-rox 

Having attained the eminence bf an .Waling, the Jones Family 

continue tin- attempt to catch Americana on the screen and succeed 

admirably. The family's divertissements on Auni Ida's farm are 

enlivened by I cornlul-king. an election and various country 

that should amuse you no end. iThe caat is as u-ual.) 


FIVE OF A KIND-20th Century-Fox. 

One cannot help feeling that Mr. Zanuck is resting on Papa 

Dionne'a laurels. The five little Quints toddle about, and 

bout a faked birth of sextupleta la stupid, 

( lure I Romero and Jean llersholt make up the cast. 



rUegc film bai U unusual twtflt — no football game! In- 
Lodcnt group who m-tituie "Hunk in 
mtmnoe," put on a ibow in order to pay off. Dixie l)uni> u 
chonist-rxirl co-ed, William Lundlgan, i leader, t£rne*i 

Trucx ih good a^ the profeatoi who tptt lltterbug. (Sov.) 


Derin ' J the weaker halt of a double bill, this rises 

no higher than its aims- The story deal - with a Hollywood stooge. 

Frank Albertson. who becomes embroiled in a murder, escapes with 
the aid of his love. Eleanor Lynn. Not much here to cheer over. GVo».) 


The lives of two girls, Jane Bryan and Sheila Bromley, run a 
close parallel as one lakes the straight road, the other the primrose 
path, yet both land in prison. Attorney Ronald Reagan finally 
unravels the web in which his sweetie becomes entangled. Human 
and interesting. (Sov.) 

GIRLS' SCHOOL- Columbia 

A disappointingly heavy story of a poor sad girl (Anne Shirley) 
in a rich snobbish school. Nan Grey is the meanie. Noah Beery, Jr., 
the sympathetic plumber, Kenneth Howell the poet. Something 
slipped here. (Dec.) 


This time Joe E. Brown wins $1500 in a bank night, goes to 
college, tries out for the team with the help of a professor who 
injects him with a new serum which gives Joe superman strength. 
Then the riot starts. June Travis and Man Mountain Dean help 
in the hilarity. For Brown fans. (Nov.) 

• GRAND ILLUSION-World Pictures 

Set in the grim background of German prison camps, this 
French film (with English subtitles) builds a tragically honest 
picture of the human side of war. Jean Gabin, Pierre Fresnay and 
Eric Von Stroheim are only a few of the superb character delinea- 
tion^ Fascinating. (Jan.) 


To the thrilling strains of Johann Strauss' best loved waltzes, the 
colorful story of the great Viennese composer's life is transferred to 
the screen with Fernand Gravel as Strauss. Luise Rainer as sis 
self-sacrificing wife. Miliza Korjus recent foreign import sings like 
the proverbial lark. Outstanding photography and direction. {Jan.) 

HARD TO GET-Warners 

No problem play this, but lair amusement provided by a new 

cinerornantic team. Dick Powell and Olivia de Havilland. Olivia is 

a madcap heiress, Dick a gas station attendant. Plenty going on of 

Icy \ariety and Dick scarcely sings a note — which is news. 


HOLD THAT CO-ED-20th Century-Fox 

The first of the fall football collegiate musicals, this is good if 
giddy entertainment. John Barrymore (swell) is the governor who 
wages his campaign on the gridiron; Coach George Murphy and 
Marjorie Weavei provide the romance; Joan Davis and Jack 
Haley add the comedy. (Nov.) 

• I AM THE LAW-Columbia 

"Give em Dewey" Il Hollywood's latest clarion call, Here you 
get .' film l' mslation of the N. V. attorney in the person of Ed- 
ward G. Robinson, who take- .in the job of cleaning up a city in 
hi- usual cyclonic style. Otto Kruger i- suave a- the vice baron, 
Wendy Barrie top-notch as a "moll.' | 

(Continued on page 89) 




Treat yourself to a brand-new (ace 
with these skillful make-up tricks bor- 
rowed from Hollywood's glamorous 

THE BEAUTY RACKET — "Beauty is a 
racket and every woman is a gangster in 
this particular racket," said lovely Irene 
Dunne, who is not my idea of a gangster at all. 

Irene and I had been discussing the weather, 
of all things, and how it affected one's skin, 
when she suddenly made the above statement. 

"Well, you need protection," she explained. 
"Every woman knows from childhood that 
beauty is necessary in order to obtain the things 
she wants from life. I don't mean that you have 
to have a perfect face or figure. That isn't 
anywhere near so important as a clear skin, 
shining hair and perfect grooming. Any woman 
can be beautiful if she has those assets. And, 
as in any other racket, you have to have pro- 
tection. In this case, you have to protect your 
skin and hair and hands against the weather. 
Against wind and cold or too much sun. That's 
what I mean," she finished triumphantly. 

"One's complexion is the most important, of 
course," Irene went on, while I noticed that hers 
was as soft and smooth as a baby's. "A good 
foundation cream is an absolute necessity be- 
it makes your make-up go on more 
smoothly and last longer. It's also a great pro- 
tection against dust and the drying effects of 
wind or cold. The use of softening creams at 
ni«ht also protects the skin and keeps it soft. 

"Shining, healthy hair is something that any 
girl can have. There's no reason at all for any- 
one to have dry. unruly hair when hair can be 
protei ' nst dirt by frequent thorough 

shampoos or ti i teaming tonii 

shampoos. And brushing and massage will 

keep it shining." 

If your hair is dry, protect it by oil treatments 
to brine back If it's oily, try 

one of the many astringent tonics on the market 

IreNI bat lip ro i the pro- 

tection, too. tx belps keep the lip- 

drying in cold weather At night, smooth a little 
white vaseline or a rich cream into your lips to 
.mrl supple. If you find that your 
lipstick won't go on smoothly because your lips 

are chapped or dry, rub a little cream on them 
before wielding your lip rouge. You'll find it's a 
great help. 

"Your hands need protection against dryness, 
also," Irene continued. "Never use a harsher 
soap for your hands than you would for your 
face. Protect them by being sure to wipe them 
thoroughly dry, 

While you're drying them, smooth back the 
cuticle of your nails to keep them in shape. 
And always use a hand lotion after they've been 
in water. 

it's a good idea, too, to rub a rich emollient 
cream into your hands at night about once a 
week and leave it on all night. Wear a pair 
of soft loose gloves when you go to bed so the 
cream will have a chance to soak into your 
hands and not into the sheets. 

"Hands give away a woman's age quicker 
than any other one factor, so it's up to every girl 
to see that hers are always soft and young- 
looking. She's protecting herself that way." 

Irene glanced over at a corner of the set where 

they were getting ready for the next scene. 
"They'll need me in a minute," she said hastily, 
"but don't forget that you have to protect the 
skin against hard water when you take your 
bath, too. Use softening crystals in the water 
or some of those marvelous creams that you 
smooth over your whole body before the bath. 
They're wonderful afterward as well, to keep 
the skin soft." 

She got up to leave, then remembered some- 
thing else. "Oh, and be sure to use a softening 
cream or lotion on the elbows, so they won't be 
roughened or red when you wear short sleeves 
or evening gowns." 

When you see "Love Affair," in which 
Irene is co-starring with Charles Boyer at RKO, 
y^ou'll see how well she has protected herself 
against all weather depredations. 

NEW HAIR-DO— Sally Eilers wasn't on the 
set of "Tarnished Angel," her new starring pic- 
ture at the same studio, but I found her down in 
the portrait gallery and when I saw her new 
hairdress I immediately demanded some por- 
traits of it so you could see how very smart and 
attractive it is and perhaps copy it for your- 
self. The hair is brushed high off the ears, of 
course, and then piled in soft rolled curls. The 
lower back hair is divided in half. One half 
is swept across the back of the head and the 
ends curled into a soft roll. Then the other half 
is brushed across that, curled in the same way, 
and kept in place by a rhinestone pin. 

Combing your hair across the back of your 
head in this manner gives your hair a softer 
and more graceful effect than if it's brushed 
straight up to the top of your head. Notice 
Sally's new earrings too. They follow the curve 
of her ears in the most approved modern fashion 
(Continued on page 81) 







With Sam Jaffe, Eduardo Ciannelli, Joan Fontaine 

Pandro S. Berman, in Charge of Production 
Produced and Directed by George Stevens 

Screen play by Joel Sayre and Fred Guiol. From a story by Ben Hecht and Charles Mac Ar thur 
Inspired by Rudyard Kipling's poem. 


UT of the stirring 
glory of Kipling's 
seething world of battle 
they roar — red -blood 
■t^L v .tu and gun -smoke heroes 

""A all ! . . . The stalwart, 

^ loyal, swaggering Ser- 

geants Three . . . Rash 
and reckless battalioneers, who'd rather 
fight than find the lips they're always 
seeking ! . . . Like towering giants astride 
the bristling hills that hide the bandit 
hordes of India . . Headlong through 
the terrors of the Temples of Tantrapur 
. . . Onward pushing the thin red line 
of Empire through a land the white man 
rules, but never conquers ! . . . It's big ! 
It's grand! . . . It's glorious! . . . No 
wonder it was more than a year in the mak- 
ing . . . No wonder it taxed all Holly- 
wood's resources to give the screen' 
a scope and a sweep and an emotional 
blaze that it never has had before ! . . . 


%■ vft 






li Li . 

IVi't, f" 


HAPPY NEW YEAR, Photoplay readers 
... I write you that with the great surety 
that for all of us who love Hollywood 
and its people and its product a happy New Year 
will come true ... I know the things that 
Photoplay itself has in store for you and even 
if I had been given no glimpse into the new 
films to come, as I have, I could yet tell you that 
great pleasure lies ahead for you on the basis 
of the year that has passed. . . . 

For in a world beset by worries, darkened 
by the threat of war and bruised of heart 
through the oppression of innocent peoples, 
Hollywood itself has remained the one spot 
where the dream of happiness has gone on . . . 
not that that town has been without its troubles 
. . . the loss of the European market has meant 
that the margin of safety that lay before between 
possible failure and fair success has been quite 
wiped OUt . . . labor difficulties have 8J 
making production more expensive and more 
precarious . . yet, week after week, the great 
pictures have come out . . . "That Certain Age" 
. . . "The Cowboy and the Lady" . . . "Submar- 
ine Patrol" . . . "The Sisters" . . . "Four Daugh- 
M n With Wings" . . . "The Citadel" 
. . . products of no one company or do one star 

. . . but of all the companies and of all the stars 
combined . . . the successful efforts of a great 
industry to provide laughter and romance and 
the surcease of tender tears. . . . 

You go one night and you see the discovery 
of a Nancy Kelly; you go another night and 
watch, as though he were your own son or 
brother, tl . sincere growth of young 

Jackie Cooper . . . you worry and hope that 
Mickey Rooney won't get too cocky . . . you sigh 

with delighted relief when little Miss Temple 
comes round again and is still just as much of a 
darling as ever . . . you speculate as to whether 

Ruth Waterbury 

Mr. Boyer can possibly be as sultry at home as 
he is on the screen ... or Mr. Gable as debonair 
... or Mr. Taylor as handsome . . . such glitter- 
ing people of all ages and moods to be a dream 
family for all of us . . . if they have their troubles, 
they are mostly hid from us, for which our 
thanks . . . for it is more fun to think that all this 
glamour and glory happen quite by chance . . . 
though nothing could be less true. . . . 

I HERE was a time, though, when it was true . . . 
when big, successful pictures just happened . . . 
when things were left to inspiration and to 
chance . . . and there are those people still about 
Hollywood who sigh and say that the "color" 
is gone ... I think that is so silly . . . today's 
color is different, but a more vivid, brighter, 
truer color for all that. . . . 

I thought cii this ,1 tew weeks back when it was 
announced that Adolph Zukor, the guiding head 
of Paramount pictures, was leaving his pro- 
duction post in Hollywood to go to Europe . . . 
I thought of Zukor. really a figure of Holly- 
v. nod's past, in contrast to a man like Hal Wallis, 
a typical personage of today's Hollywood. . . . 

It was nearly thirty years ago that Zukor got 
his first and greatest inspiration . . . that of sign- 
ing the then greatest actress in the world, Sarah 
Bernhardt, to do a movie called "Queen Eliza- 

. . . the spectacular triumphs of 
Producer Hal Wallis (above, 
with two of the famous Lanes) 

beth" . . . that picture and that idea were the 
whole basis of the company that was to be called 
Famous Players and later Paramount . . . and 
that method, the sheer inspiration of an idea 
that came out of the nowhere into the here, i; 
typical of the way that pictures have been made 
until very recently . . . Zukor was a fur sales- 
man originally; Sam Goldwyn, one of the 
pioneers, was a drummer in gloves . . . men 
who came from the outside world into the busi- 
ness of showmanship . . . today the great figures 
of the industry, David O. Selznick, Darryl 
Zanuck and Hal Wallis, are men who have never 
known any other business than movies . . . and 
of these three it may yet be revealed that Wallis 
will be the greatest . . . for Selznick and Zanuck 
both have temperament and to spare . . . but 
Wallis works with a head as cold as ice . . . yet 
one thing he has always possessed to a passion- 
ate degree and that is his love of movies. . . . 
He first started working in Chicago and he 
never had to think twice about what he wanted 
to do ... he wanted to be a movie producer . . . 
but how that could be brought about he couldn't 
perceive ... he knew one thing, though . . . 
movies had to go into theaters, so perhaps he 
could do tricks backwards ... if he went into a 
theater he might get into movies ... so he got 
himself a job in a Chicago movie house ... he 
started as an assistant there but presently he 
was the manager, and as manager he learned 
everything he could about what people wanted 
in movies, and how and when, and as soon as he 
felt he had mastered as much as he could, he 
betook himself to Los Angeles. . . . 

To THE world at large Wallis is as yet little 

known, for until very recently he was almost 

completely hidden behind his bosses, the Warner 

(Continued on page 84) 




Assodote Producer 






VCA. Q(r&L south 


A new alliance for chic: casual, lightweight 
tweed and magnificent FEDERAL Fox, in a 
retort coal that is charted for another hrilliant 

career, when spring comes north. Fashion puts 
the stamp of approval on the fox with the 
FEDER \L name stamped on the leather side 
of the pell; it stands for sumptuous beaut) 
and lasting loveliness. You'll find FEDERAL 
Fox at smart stores throughout tin* country. 






^> ■. 



He didn't move for a long 
time, just knelt there with 
a rosary in his hands . . . 
after a time he arose and 
came down the aisle . . . 
then turned and said, 
"Want some help, kid?" 


The first of a new type of feature which presents the true Hollywood heart- 
beat in many moods — the touching story of the Don Ameches' lost dream 


THIS is the story of a movie star and of the 
strange week in which Fate brought me to 
know him, to know him better than most 
people, even though I am but a mere acquaint- 
ance. For I saw him as himself, not the smiling 
actor, but as a man who played a sad part. And 
I saw the revelation of a great love as it blos- 
somed and grew from a lost hope. 

In these paragraphs I shall tell you the simple 
but deep love of Don Ameche and Honore, his 
childhood sweetheart. It happened like this. 

Once I saw a man kneel and pray, tears in his 
eyes. At least, I thought I saw tears, but I was 
crying, too, so maybe it was my own tears. 

That was the day the doctors told me I would 
never walk again, not normally, at least, like 
other girls. So I had hobbled into the little 
chapel in the hospital to ask for a miracle, but 
he had my place at the Blessed Virgin's altar. 
So I sat in the dimly lit pew and waited for 

him to go away because I felt like being alone. 

He didn't move for a long time, just knelt 
there with a rosary in his hands, not counting 
off the beads, merely holding it. After a long 
time he arose and came down the aisle, sort of 
blindly, brushing past me as though I were not 
even there. He went a few steps, then turned 
around and said, "Want some help, kid? . . . 
It was my first meeting with Don Ameche. 

I said, "No, thank you," and started slowly 
down the aisle. 

He appeared to hesitate for a moment, then 
asked, "Sure you can make it?" 

I nodded, but he stood there until I had knelt 
in his place at the altar. 

In the next few days, heartbreaking for the 

three of us, I saw unfolded before my eyes the 

great love story of Don and Honore Ameche — 

(Continued on page 76) 


A fascinating new kind of interview in which Jean Arthur answers questions truthfully — 



Leave it to Photoplay to find a new way to make those stubborn 
stars talk! Remember the hilarious days when you used to play 
the old game of Truth and Consequences? Someone asked you 
any question in the world, usually as personal as possible, and 
you had to answer with absolute truth or take the consequences 
devised by the questioner. Knowing Jean Arthur's weakness for 
fun, as well as her steadfast refusal to talk about personal 
matters, Photoplay's Katharine Hartley dared Jean to play the 
new version of this favorite old game. Jean agreed and out of 
fifty-four of the most impertinent questions you'll ever read, she 
failed to answer only six. So six times she had to take the conse- 
quences devised by Photoplay — and what consequences! They're 
all on the opposite page, each and every penalty there veri- 
fied by a certified public accountant to be the real Jean Arthur 




1. (Q) If i 00% is perfect, how do you rate 

yourself as an actress? 
(A) 25'; of what I'd like to be. 

2. (Q) What is your honest reaction to auto- 

graph hounds? 
(A) I realize autograph hounds are impor- 
tant to an actor's career, for they 
show her popularity with the public. 
I wish I could honestly feel as the late 
Will Rogers did — that the only thing 
to get bothered about autograph 
hounds is when they stop asking for 
autographs. But I can't — not honestly 
— for I'm easily embarrassed and I al- 
ways feel that most of the autograph 
hounds are not interested in getting 
my particular autograph, but merely 
in adding to their collections. And 
sometimes when I'm with other per- 
sons who aren't in pictures, I feel it's 
bad manners on my part to delay 
them by keeping them dangling 
around while I sign my name. 

3. (Q) Are you sorry you do not have chil- 

(A) Yes, I'm sorry I haven't five. 

4. (Q) Do you think you would make a good 

(A) I don't know whether I would make a 
good mother or not — but I do know 
that I would take motherhood very se- 
riously. I personally feel children 
should be treated like grown-ups— 
with tact, consideration, understanding, 
sympathy and love, and I'd have an 
awfully good time playing with them. 

5. (Q) If you had your choice of selecting your 

own face and figure from a group of 
well-known female personalities, whom 
would you most rather resemble? 
(A) I can't decide between Katharine Cor- 
nell and Garbo. 

6. (Q) In what way have you followed a for- 

tune teller's advice? 
(A) I've never followed a fortune teller's! 
advice for the simple reason I don't | 
believe in them. Anyway, fortune 
tellers rarely give actual advice. They 
usually prophesy regarding the future 
(Continued on page 72) 

or pays a forfeit on each query she refuses to answer 







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Consequences on Question No. 15 

2* ^^<AJi ---,^^ ^a-4j^ ,i£ I 


Jean's punishment for refusing to name her 
favorite stars was to pose as all three char- 
acters of "The Spirit of '76" (top, right). 
The sketch (right, center), for those not 
versed in the Arthurian school of art, is a 
portrait of Jean and her dog — the forfeit 
paid on "What characteristic of Hollywood 
people annoys you most?". Jean's disposi- 
tion is a touchy subject. Result: a picture of 
her in a football uniform (bottom). If she 
has ever shocked her friends, she's not tell- 
ing. Penalty — a picture which looks the 
least like her (center). As for the term of 
endearment she uses to address her hus- 
band, Jean would rather write a fan letter 
to Charlie McCarthy (left) than tell. An- 
other consequence (top) was meted out 
when Jean refused to name the leading 
man with whom she enjoyed working least 

When the questions got too 
personal, Jean took the above 
punishment on No. 24 and the 
one fer left on No. 39 

s«*** x " 

Melvyn, at the age of two 

Aged eight, after a year in Germany 

1 « 


A shatterer of conventions, a 
stormy petrel struggling for freedom 
— Melvyn Douglas. Beginning the 
vivid story of a rebellious youth 


THE man's nervous fingers were not quite 
lure Oil the keys and the particular Chopin 
Nocturne he was playing thereby suffered. 
Still, the familiar chords were soothing; April 
sunlight came through the windows and struck 
tiMtrs of rich wine in the polish of the old square 
rosewood piano. From upstairs, a discordant 
\v;nling sound suddenly argued with Chopin 
ever a passage and, involuntarily, Professor 
Edouard Hesselberg transposed to another key 
— the key in which the person you have come 
to know as Melvyn Douglas uttered his first cry 
on this earth. 

It was symbolic, since here was the birth of 
discord — a brawny, lusty Discord who, even on 
the first evening of his life, proved his noncon- 
formism by falling on his head from a nurse's 
clumsy arms and surviving with no perceptible 
injury, either mental or physical. It was a tough 
head. It still is. But perhaps the jolt it received 
on that night thirty-seven years ago dislodged 
the little normal scale which, in the brains of 
most men, weighs convention with convention 
to prove a stolid balance. 

In any case young Melvyn turned out, to his 
parents' surprise and often to their horror, to 
be a renegade. He was not as other babies, 
nor as other boys. Often in the quiet night — 
Macon, Georgia at the turn of the century, was a 
peaceful town, especially after curfew — the pro- 
fessor and Lena (nee Shackleford), his good 
wife, would discuss this thing. They thought 
perhaps the child's mixed ancestry . . . Edouard 
was Russian-born; Lena had been a Kentuckian, 
with muddled English and harsh Scotch blood 
cooling her veins. The combination, felt these 
two artistic intellectuals, might be forming a 
strange alchemy of emotion and mentality in 
their son. They were wont to remember, winc- 
ing, during these discussions the trip to Europe 
they made when Melvyn was six weeks old. 
It was the first evidence that he was going to 
be a Trial. In persistent opposition to the rules 
most babies follow he had wept copiously and 

thrashed around in his basket all night, sleep- 
ing in peace throughout the day while the 
Hesselbergs, hollow-eyed, napped at noon and 
nodded at dinner. 

That trip, agreed the Hesselbergs, had been 
hell. But they were optimists. Smiling hope- 
fully, they planned to mold the boy and map 
his future and his ideas for him, as he grew 
older. "He will be a musician," Edouard would 
say, nodding his head and tapping his knees 
with his sensitive fingers. 

"Or a lawyer," Lena would modify. She was 
a practical woman and she had been married 
for many years to a musician. "The law pays 

The Professor had learned the habit of com- 
promise. "He will make his own choice — " 

She nodded. But neither meant it. They 
were people of a small world, of intense posses- 
siveness. This son was a treasure to be nurtured 
with passionate care, to be shaped like modeling 
clay by ceaseless, watchful work; and the shell 
they built around him through the early years 
was of adamantine, made of too much love and 
too much solicitude and the deep-rooted belief 
of the Hesselbergs that a child must be a reflec- 
tion of his parents, mindless, until manhood. 
Then, they seemed to feel, the personality of ego 
would spring into being suddenly, fully devel- 
oped, at the stroke of noon on his twenty- 
first birthday. 


Melvyn's periodic attempts at rebellion were 
spasmodic, frenzied, like a chained animal that 
gathers strength over a period of time for a 
frantic struggle for freedom. And those at- 
tempts, in chronological order, are the story of 
his youth. 

LATER — years later — when, in retrospect, he 
found time to assemble the reasons for what he 
was, for what he had become, he could remem- 
ber many things that directly or indirectly had 

influenced him. The Macon house, furnished 
for comfort but not stylized. The big piano. 
Music his father made which frightened him, 
but which the Professor continued to play as an 
experiment because this new upstart composer 
named Igor Stravinsky might one day amount 
to something. His bed. which had fences around 
it. A verse which began. "Now I lay me down 
..." and had no meaning, but which he was 
forced to learn and repeat as a requisite for 
being tucked in. Moving to Nashville. Tennes- 
see, then. A new house, a new bed: but the 
same piano, the same music, the same verse. 
School. Teachers in blouses and long straight 
skirts and knots of hair piled high with things 
Mama said were "rats." The never-to-be-for- 
gotten cynicism about teachers and the sanity 
of teachers, therefore. Church, and the stained 
glass crucifixion from which he could never take 
his eyes, although the violent scene made a knot 
form in his stomach. . . . 

The church had hard pews and a minister 

whose face and voice you couldn't forget. You 
asked mother about him and also about the 
pictures in the church and she explained that 
these things were God. They were frightening 
and uncomfortable, so you slipped away from 
His House one Sunday morning and betook 
yourself on your six-year-old legs to the more 
congenial corner drug store where, with your 
nickel for the collection, you purchased and 
drank soda. 

And you were caught, and returned to the 
Father's House, and later to your own house, 
where you were spanked, which was bad. and 
talked to with tears, which was worse, and put 
to bed. which was escape. And. after that, you 
gave God His due — respect and a nickeL But 
you wondered. 

There was being eight, finally, and going to 
Germany for a year. School in Germany, and 
confusion. Where before there had been a 
striped flag, and "I pledge allegiance" — there 
was now a being named Wilhelm. who was 
either God or the president And none of the 
kids knew English. You ate heavy, different 
food and watched magnificent parades in which 
men with spiked helmets marched stiffly, like 
lifeless mechanical men. down the street. All of 
them stepped too high with one leg only. And 
you were just getting used to all this when 
suddenly you were back in Nashville once more, 
and Germany was a colored patch on a map. 
and you were an American again. 

There was being eleven, and a clearer con- 
ception of things, so that moving to Toronto, 
(Continued on page 74) 







The fascinating inside story 
of those Hollywood working 
girls — how they live and the 
special problems they face 



She would be, anywhere but in 
Hollywood, the most popular girl 
in town, but here her problem is 
one in common with every bachelor 
q j r | — star, extra, writer, manicurist 


FIFTY thousand girls are on their own in 
Hollywood today — more than in any other 
town in the world. What is the inside story 
of these girls? How do they live? How do 
they support themselves? What do they spend 
for their homes, their dresses, their hats, their 
shoes? How do they handle their "dates"? Do 
they say good-by to the men at the door of their 
apartments or invite them inside — and what are 
the consequences? What special sex problems 
do they encounter that are different from those 
encountered by girls the world over? 

With the many girls who come to Hollywood 
with their families or are under the protecting 
grace of husbands, this story is not concerned. 
It is written about the girls who stand on their 
own feet and support themselves through their 
own efforts. 

* * * 

There are four types of girls on their own in 
filmtown — the girls who act, including stars, fea- 
tured players, bit players and extras; girls in 
technical jobs, writers, script girls, designers, 
publicists; the people on the fringe of the in- 
dustry, professional escorts, hostesses, compan- 
ions and guides: and the great mass of working 
girls including waitresses, beauty parlor opera- 
tors, cashiers, manicurists, maids and cooks. 
And all of them have one urgent problem in 
common — the scarcity of eligible Hollywood 

Hollywood men, all four groups say, are 
spoiled. You often hear that Hollywood is a 
woman's town, but paradoxically enough, just 
because it is a woman's town — there are seven 

women in Hollywood to every man — it's really 
a man's town. The result is, Hollywood girls, 
no matter what their status, are easy to date. 
A man who in his own home town wouldn't get 
a second glance may come to Hollywood and if 
he's a moderate success and earns $100 a week 
or more, he may eventually be taking out a 
glamour girl who earns five times his salary. 

Easterners, the Hollywood girls say, are the 
most sought-after males. They send flowers; 
they wouldn't dream of allowing a girl they take 
out to share the expenses of the evening (a 
West Coast practice frequently indulged in, by 
the way) ; they phone the girls to whom they're 
attracted to ask for dates instead of calmly say- 
ing when they meet those girls, "Why haven't 
you given me a ring?"; when they want to see 
a girl, they buy tickets for the latest play or the 
best picture in town; but they don't phone a 
girl to ask her, "Say, have you received passes 
to such and such a picture? If you have, why 
don't you take me with you?" 

Of course, each girl in each group has her own 
very special man problem. Take the star, for 
instance. Every time the star goes to an im- 
portant premiere or even to the Brown Derby, 
the columnists will pay special heed to her es- 
cort and the next day the newspapers may re- 
port that a romance is beginning between Gloria 

Glamour and . The star knows this will 

happen; the studio knows it; and all those in- 
side the industry know it. The question is — 
just how does this situation affect the social life 
of a star? Well, generally, this is the way things 

happen. Her studio comes to her and says, 
"Look, Gloria, we're putting a grand new lead- 
ing man into your next picture — swell guy, 
you'll be crazy about him. Name of Jimmy 

. He photographs perfectly, and is an 

excellent actor. But you know how it is, the 
guy isn't so well known in this country. In 
France, yes, but this isn't France. Why don't 
you go to the premiere with him next week?" 

Maybe the star shrugs her shoulders and says, 
"Why should I go? What do I get out of it?" 
But usually she is persuaded to do it on the same 
principle that a man does his best for "good old 
Rugby" — it will help the studio, and, incident- 
ally, help the box office take on her next picture, 
particularly if the nice young leading man is in 
it. Still, she's doing the studio a favor. 

This "business" dating isn't always done so 
brutally as that, though. Often all the publicity 
department does is to arrange for the nice young 
newcomer to meet Gloria, knowing that he's 
just the type to sweep her off her feet, with the 
result that Gloria and Gloria's picture and the 
nice young newcomer all get reams of publicity. 

So far as the star's sex problems are con- 
cerned, she has one great advantage over most 
of the other girls in Hollywood. Being impor- 
tant, she can nearly always pick and choose her 
escorts. And so long as she is friendly and not 
too high-hat, she doesn't have to accept the at- 
tentions of producers or directors, nor is it so 
important for her as it is for the little extra or 
bit player never to antagonize anyone in a po- 
sition to help her. 

The disadvantage the star faces is chiefly in 
meeting men. Her best chance of making a suc- 
cessful marriage is to marry someone so impor- 
tant in the industry that there will never be the 
slightest chance that her husband will be re- 
ferred to as Mr. Grace Glamour. (The Norma 
Shearer-Irving Thalberg marriage was this 
type.) Another possibility is for her to marry 
someone outside the profession who is doing 
something of such great humanitarian scope 
that, regardless of the income he makes, he will 
always command her utmost respect. (The Dr. 
Joel Pressman-Claudette Colbert marriage is 
this type.) 

Having disposed of the star's "man problems," 
let's look into her mode of living. 

The star probably draws down SI, 000 a week 
or more, owns her own home, which she may 
have built herself, and buys her dresses at Mag- 
nin's, Bullock's-Wilshire, or Saks Fifth Avenue. 
If her home is in Bel-Air, she probably pays 
from $10,000 to $30,000 per acre for the lot alone. 
If she buys an estate in San Fernando Valley, 
she can get one with about fifty-five acres for 
anywhere from $60,000 up. Of course the star 
may pay $1,000 down for a home in Westwood 
and the balance of $13,750 just like rent. Most 
stars own their own homes. Ginger Rogers has 
one in Beverly Hills. Claudette Colbert and 
Irene Dunne have beautiful homes in Holmby 
Hills. Almost the only top-notch stars who still 
rent their homes are Garbo and Janet Gaynor. 

I HE life of the featured player is decidedly dif- 
ferent. The featured player makes from $75 to 
$750 a week, generally rents her home if she's 
in the upper brackets, or if she's in the lower 
brackets lives in a very up-to-date apartment 
hotel with switchboard service, paying about 
$100 for such an apartment. Occasionally she 
splurges on a $100 or $200 dress which she may 
buy at Bullock's-Wilshire or in a swanky New 
York shop or have made to order, but as a gen- 
eral rule she pays about S30 to $50 for a dress, 
about $10 to $35 for a hat, about $15 for shoes. 
In the upper brackets, the featured player is 
likely to have two servants, usually a maid and 
a cook; in the lower brackets, she has no per- 
sonal maid, but gets daily or weekly maid serv- 
ice at the apartment hotel at which she resides. 
The maid who comes in cleans her apartment 
thoroughly but doesn't wash the dishes and, of 


• perform the little chores of a 
trial maid m darning itockini 

ired plaj own 

making I' week, 

it wil' probabl i Bve- 

- 1 Ton Very 
■i the finance plan, one-third 
down, and the real in monthly installment 

s making betwt rid $100 a week, she 

will buy an Inexpensive secondhand tar of a 
popular make mi the installment plan. 

neral rule, the amount of money the 
featured player spends on her clothes is out of 
all proportion to her income If she mak< 

a week *he may spend $L'((0 on 

Of course, some featured players 

refuse to follow this general pattern, 

and let their bosses know that they'll 

•ust as they please. When Jean 

Muir first came to pictures, she is 

said to have made $75 a week. She 

■ d in the simple, inexpensive 

tie would have worn in N 

York and actually saved some of the 

money she made. 

When Fiances Farmer insisted on 
wearing what she pleased, walking 
around the studio in faded old slacks, 
\ecutivos. highly displeased, re- 
layed a message to her through her 
dramatic coach. Phyllis Loughton. 
What did she mean, they wanted to 
know, going around the lot looking 
like someone's poor relation? Didn't 
she know that the fans expected 
their favorites to look glamorous? 
What would Miss Farmer's public 
think of her if they caught a glimpse 
of her some day in those disgraceful, 
worn-out slacks? 

Not at all daunted. Miss Farmer 
Miss Loughton to go up to the 
head office and deliver a message 
from her to them. "Tell them." she 
said (and this is probably the most perfect 
squelch ever delivered by a featured player) 
"that if they would pay as much attention to 
the parts they give their actresses as they do to 
the clothes We wear, we would both make a lot 
more money." 

THE featured player's problem where men are 
concerned is highly different from that of the 
Hollywood star. She is much more apt to marry 
a producer, a director or someone else who 
might he able to help her become a star. 

When tin star is expected to go out with some 
pleasant but not very well-known young lead- 
ing man because it will "build" him up, the fea- 
tured player or the star who has slipped a great 
deal has a lot to gain if an important and roman- 
tic young man takes her out. While no one doubts 
Incerity of Barbara Stanwyck's love for 
Robert Taylor or Carole Lombard's devotion to 
Clark Gable, from a cynical Hollywood view- 
point those two girls were both lucky because 
Mentions of the two most romantic young 
men in Hollywood placed the spotlight of fame 
firmly on them and made them much more pop- 
ular with the fans than they'd ever been before. 

lucky is the featured player who can 
dangle an important young star before the eyes 
of the dazzled world. 

Failing t<> accomplish that feat, tin- featured 
player is apt to look about for a director or some 
romantic young man who is dashing enough so 
that a rumored romance with him lends luster 
to her nal 

If there's mm dashing young man in the pic- 
ture, a studio publicist sometimes makes one 
up. Quite embarrassed was Olivia de Ilavilland 
when : in 'he newspapers that she had 

gone abroad to marry an English lord. On her 
rn from Europe she explained that she had 


never mot the English lord, that she had gone 
abroad to rest because she had worked so hard 
that she was on the verge of a nervous break- 
down, and that, when she had looked up the 
Englishman's name in Burke's Peerage, she had 
discovered that he was already married. 

tory that Olivia was going abroad to rest 
WOllld havi tj two lines in a newspaper. 

The exciting story about the English lord got 
about two columns in every newspaper in the 

Because she stands so close to stardom and 
ly sink into oblivion, the featured 
player must be much more careful than thl 
never to antagonize the men upon whom her 


future depends. There was the case of the beau- 
tiful dark-haired young woman who was pro- 
gressing very nicely in pictures. When a fa- 
mous star had become too ill to complete the 
picture she had started, the dark-haired young 
woman was rushed into her role. For a time it 
looked as if Mary — which, of course, is not her 
ame — -had every chance of attaining star- 
dom. Then, suddenly, she was dropped by the 
very same studio which had been building her 
up. No one knew just why, although there were 
rumors that she had antagonized one of the big 

Word went round Hollywood that the Big 
Shot was furious at Mary — and that if any other 
producer hired her, he would find a way to get 
even with him. Since producers often have to 
borrow stars from each other or ask other fa- 
vors, none of the big shots at the other studios 
would take the risk of antagonizing. 

Yet Mary might have saved herself a terrific 
headache if she'd known more about the tech- 
nique of saying "no." Mary's mistake was not 
in saying "no" — she could have gotten away 
with that if she'd said it tactfully — but in 
wounding the Big Shot's ego. 

MOST Hollywood girls, no matter what group 
they belong to, have a marvelous technique for 
letting a man down easily. She would just love 
to go to his apartment, but it's too bad, she has 
an engagement for this evening. The next 
night? Why, she's promised to be home at a 
certain time and her mother would be terribly 
hurt if she stayed away from home. That's the 
night she always spends with the family. The 
result is that the man never knows whether the 
girl will end by saying yes or no. 

Sometimes, when the man takes her to the 
door of her apartment and is eager to come in, 
the wise Hollywood girl who has known him 
only a short time invents an imaginary room- 

"Oh, I'd love to invite you in," she says, "but 
Glenda (that's my roommate) has gone to bed 
already and I promised not to disturb 

Thus the featured player often pre- 
vents situations from arising which 
might cause her considerable embar- 

Although being "nice" to the right 
people is supposed to help the featured 
player attain success, often it has ex- 
actly the opposite result. One beautiful young 
blonde stage player was brought to Hollywood, 
where she was expected to become one of the 
biggest stars in pictures. She was glamour in- 
carnate. Before long the leading man in her 
picture w'as desperately in love with her. Al- 
though he was married and she knew it, that 
made no difference to her. 

She didn't even have the excuse of being 
in love with the leading man. Before long, she 
discarded him and he went back to his wife — a 
strangely listless and unhappy young man. 

The blonde went on to bigger and better con- 
quests. According to Hollywood theory, she 
should have reached the top, for she had every- 
thing and she found "yes" the easiest word in 
the language to say. Yet in the end, Hollywood 
discarded her. Instead of being grateful to her 
for being "nice" to them, the producers and di- 
rectors grew weary of her too easy compliance. 
And so your important featured player often 
finds herself between the horns of a dilemma. 
Theoretically. Hollywood believes that a woman's 
honor is her own affair, so long as she doesn't 
hurt a third person and isn't too promiscuous. 
If she has decided to say "no" and stick to it, 
(Continued on page 80) 

Most Hollywood girls have a mar- 
velous technique for letting a man 
down easily when he wants to come 
to their apartments after a date 



N C E N T 


walls or tending the yucca that grew along the 
wall under the scrub oaks like giant candles. 
He lived over the garage. It was a clean, com- 
fortable room, rather bare. "It was quieter 
like." he said. "My daughter wanted I should 
have a room in the house. But I liked it out 
here. I get up pretty early. I could be more to 
myself. It was quieter like." 

So it was that he had heard nothing, seen 
nothing, upon that fatal night. Under exam- 
ination by a grim young detective, he said that 
he would have heard a car if it had come round 
to the garage. But most of the cars stopped 
the other side of the house, in the little circular 
drive. Maybe, then, if he was asleep or reading 

his paper, he wouldn't have heard it at all. At 
about nine he had heard his daughter come in 
and call good night — cheerfully —to someone 
and go on into the house. No. he hadn't seen 
her. When she was working she was often tired 
and went straight to bed. Later, he had sort of 
remembered hearing a car or two go by on the 
winding highway up the canyon. There were 
two other houses higher up — half a mile away. 
He was sure they didn't stop. 

As it turned out, a studio car had brought 
her home from location at 9: 10 and the chauf- 
feur had checked into the studio right on time. 

The murderer had struck, as close as the doc- 
tors could figure, sometime after midnight, cer- 

The woman swayed ... he put an arm 
around her . . . "You should — tele- 
phone — the police — " she said, her 
throat convulsed, the words broker 

tainly not before. The solution didn't seem 
far to seek. For all her jewels were missing 
from the painted wall safe. And a window on 
the ground floor had been forced. 

I HE old man's story was convincing. Cer- 
tainly he had everything to lose by his daugh- 
ter's death — his beloved garden and the com- 
fortable room over the garage. The servants— 
a man and his wife — didn't sleep on the place 
They went home when their work was finished 
They were a Mexican couple and lived down 
near the Plaza. Oh, she's always had an eye for 
effect, for a perfect background for her dark 
beauty. When she entertained, she gave small, 
elegant dinners with unusual Spanish food and 
excellent wine. The Mexican couple had a bul- 
let-proof alibi. They had been at a dance down 
in Sonora Town, seen by a hundred people 
Obviously, they knew very little about their 
mistress' business. The further the detcv 
went into the matter, the more they discovered 
that nobody knew very much about her busi- 
ness. Her ways had been secret and careful in 

The Mexican couple had returned that morn- 
ing in time to waken her because she had a 
studio call at eight. They hadn't, this time, been 
(Continued on page 85) 



THERE'S never been a good story written 
about her. There probably never will be, 

For it's right in the same class with trying to 
describe the taste of coffee or the scent of night- 
blooming jasmine. 

Still, Myrna Loy has something that Hedy 
Lamarr with all her mystery, Joan Crawford 
with all her ambition, Claudette Colbert with all 
her intelligence, Carole Lombard with all her 
humor haven't got. 

Myrna Loy has serenity. She knows how to 
be happy though famous. Among Hollywood 
women that makes her absolutely unique. 

It doesn't worry her that she isn't the most 
beautiful girl in town. She is relaxed even be- 
fore the fact that she isn't actually beautiful at 
all. She lets the freckles pile up on the end of 
her nose, although her nose is what makes her 
face so provocative. To dodge freckles she'd 
have to stay in out of the sun, and she wouldn't 
do that for anything. 

She knows that there are plenty of girls, even 
in the extra ranks, with better figures than hers. 
Dieting would improve hers, but then she would 
have to go without food, which she adores. 

She realizes she could get lots more stories 
about herself in the papers if she talked more. 
But if she talked more, she would have to think 
out loud, and, if she did that, it would be a lot 
of bother, and what fun is that? 

Other stars pine to go into opera, or conquer 
the New York stage. Myrna doesn't. She loves 
movies and everything about them. Maybe she 
could work herself up into feeling snobbish 
toward them, but why? 



She has a very strong conviction that modern 
women are more interesting than women have 
ever been in the world's history. She honestly 
believes they are more courageous, more sensi- 
tive and more loving than ever before. For that 
reason she prefers to portray them rather than 
hark back to any stuffy classics like "Hedda 
Gabler" or "The Doll's House" or such, even 
though the latter might get her a reputation for 
being artistic. She would rather be real than 
artistic any day. 

flSK her about her future and she smiles at you 
from the depths of her sleepy eyes and says 
that oh, dear, she really can't worry about an- 
nuities and such. 

It is completely typical of her that she re- 
cently refused to play Nora in a new Thin Man 
production if Bill Powell was not to play her 
husband. She said she wouldn't feel right with 
a new film husband. She wouldn't, either. She's 
sensitive about things like that. (P. S. Bill 
Powell will play her husband!) 

She is terrifically loyal to her friends and it 
is of the utmost unimportance to her whether 
or not they are big or little shots. The man she 
married, Arthur Hornblow, Jr., is a very big 
shot indeed, and a fine producer. But her clos- 
est woman friend is a hairdresser. 

She didn't even get herself into a stew over 
her own wedding. She just w^ent down to En- 
senada over the Mexican border to be married 
by a Mexican justice who couldn't speak more 
than a dozen words of English, none of which 
Myrna could understand. She is pretty sure 
the marriage was legal, though Hornblow 
climbed a wall and picked a bridal bouquet for 
her out of a neighboring garden. The Mexicans 
didn't mind and Myrna loved it. 

She was born on a ranch outside of Helena, 
Montana, which is such a small place that it is 
hard not to be outside of it no matter what you 
do, and she was her father's pet. Her closest 
pal was her younger brother. He still is. She 
learned about men from those companionships. 

A fantastic number of beautiful, successful 
girls in Hollywood sit home alone night after 
night. Before she was married, Myrna sat home, 

too, but never alone. There were always plenty 
of beaux. She has what it takes. 

She still sits home now that she is married. 
She loves being home. She hates night clubs. 
Her husband does, too. 

When she was fighting with Metro a couple 
of years ago over her new contract, Bill Powell 
and her husband were much more steamed up 
over it than Myrna was. Bill went around mut- 
tering, "Why, the idea of their acting like that 
toward little Myrna," "their" meaning the stu- 
dio. Her agent, undoubtedly egged on by the 
brilliant Mr. Hornblow, did all the quarreling. 
Myrna just sat quiet and waited for the studio 
to capitulate. She knew all along that it would. 

An absolute burst of conversation from her is 
three consecutive sentences. On the other hand, 
she is a divine listener. This characteristic 
doesn't hurt her any with men, either. It never 
has any girl. 

I OU can't honestly say that her life has all been 
a bed of roses, but you'd be fairly accurate in 
pointing out that it has been pretty consistently 
flowery — say a bed of morning glories. She 
never knew starvation or a bad kicking around. 
She came from nice people and therefore didn't 
have to begin learning her manners after she 
signed her first contract. Her severest loss was 
losing her father. That hurt. 

She had a long, tough bout with success, 
though. It is hard to realize that she has been 
in pictures ever since 1925, but she has. Mrs. 
Rudolph Valentino was her first discoverer, but 
Warner Brothers were the first to put her under 
contract. The two auspices couldn't possibly 
have been more dissimilar, but they saw her 
alike — as something very strange and exotic. 
Their instinct was right, at that. She wasn't, of 
course, the Oriental enchantress they made her 
appear, but she was — and she is — as subtle as 
the music of Debussy or the fines of a Greek 

She went through an agonizing amount of in- 
ept roles at Warners for several years and was 
finally let out by the Brothers. She was signed 
by Fox and the same thing happened there. 
Her last free-lance picture before signing her 

In a few terse words Myrna (with her husband Arthur Hornblow, Jr.) sums 
up the trouble with modern marriage and thus reveals the secret of her success 

present contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer 
was made at RKO and in it she played her 
wickedest role of all. It makes her writhe to 
remember it. She had to be one of Those Girls. 

She says her favorite studio of the many that 
she has worked in is Sam Goldwyn's. It was 
so adult, she claims. Arthur Hornblow was at 
Goldwyn's at the same time that Myrna was. 
That was where she first became acquainted 
with him. That probably had something to do 
with her fond memories of the place. 

She is always eager to give credit where credit 
is due. She will get absolutely loquacious, for 
her, on the subjects of Henry Waxman and E. 
H. Griffith, the director. Waxman was the 
photographer who first helped her by revealing 
how photogenic her face actually is. Griffith 
was the original director to discover that she 
could play an American woman with warmth 
and almost startling accuracy. 

tVEN as with her success, she had to wait for 
her real love. Arthur Hornblow was married 
when she first met him. He had long been sep- 
arated from his first wife, but it took him several 
more years to secure his freedom. If, during 
that waiting time, Myrna ever got discouraged 
or frightened, she revealed no trace of it to the 
outside world. Such a situation has broken 
many a woman, but it did not break Myrna. 
Perhaps it was then that she studied as to what 
made an ideal marriage, studied it so thoroughly 
that she can now portray it tenderly both on the 
screen and in her private life. That is a sheer 
guess, though. It takes no guesswork to tell 
that the Hornblow marriage is an ideal one, 
however. That fact shines forth from the Loy 
eyes and glows forth from her healthy body. 

Her house is like her, lovely, comfortable and 
unpretentious. It is out quite a ways from 
Beverly Hills in a wild, unfrequented section 
called, with no appropriateness to Myrna, Cold 
Water Canyon. You have probably heard the 
story that the site of it is a site where she used 
to go with her brother when they were both 
unknown and he was searching for spots to 
sketch. She loved it then and she still loves it, 
and that, too, is characteristic, both of her fidel- 
ity and the sentimental side of her of which she 
isn't at all ashamed. 

She waxes highly loquacious (two whole sen- 
tences) about the patio which faces the hills be- 
hind her home. She gets a big kick out of eat- 
ing there. 

She and Arthur Hornblow revisit the Mexican 
town where they were married each time their 
wedding date rolls around. They also motor 
away on trips together whenever they can get 
free from their individual studios, tripping 
around like any average husband and wife to 
places like the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone 
Park, Death Valley and such. Myrna wants to 
travel in Europe, too. 

Principally, though, she says she wants to five 
every minute of every day as fully as it can be 
lived. By that, she means to imply nothing that 
is jitterbug-ish. She means something much 
richer and deeper. But. like all her remarks, 
she does not amplify what she really means and 
you must draw your own conclusions. 

For instance. I think her personal serenity and 
her professional and private success are all 
summed up in what she thinks is the trouble 
with modern marriage. 

"The trouble with most women is that they 
aren't lusty enough for men," she says. 

That isn't her trouble. She is. 

On that fact hang all the Loy and the profits. 



Jimmy Cagney (above with Pat O'Brien in "Angels With Dirty Faces") confuses even 
his best friends by the marked contradiction of his screen and real personality 

Revealing the sentimental side of a "tough guy" 
whose biggest theft is out of the cookie jar 


IT'S pretty generally understood among his 
closest friends (though kept as quiet as pos- 
sible) that Jim Cagney is not quite — well, 
shall we say normal — on the subject of cookies. 
In everything else Jimmy seems to be all right. 
His knee action is good; he dislikes screwy hats 
on his wife; he can carry a tunc in a little brown 
and yellow basket. But, to be honest about the 
whole thing, Jim Cagney is not the same Cag- 
ney when ;i plate of cookies comes within smell- 
ing distance. 

Bill Cagney, the brother with the business 
brains, insists that a peculiar wild gleam comes 
Into Jim's eye whenever cookies go the rounds. 
As Ear as I can gather, It's a certain rolling of 
eball that reminds one of War Horse Bay 
Billie about to stampede 

And it's the cocoanut kind that causes the real 

A EamoUfl psychiatrist once tried to gel to the 
bottom of what the family is pleased to call 
Jinn ie compl" 

i dream about squashing grape- 
fruit?" the psychiatrist asked. Well — you know 
what happened after that. . . . 

To me, the most amazing fact in a boatload of 

contradictory facts about Cagney is that he has 
never once been recognized or claimed by his 
ilk. Nobody, except his family, of course, ever 
places Jimmy in the category to which he 
belongs. The mugs, who have no chance of meet- 
ing Cagney off-screen, are more or less con- 
vinced that Jimmy is one of them — a rough- 
spoken, tough-acting little thug. And so what 
if he is a blond. Accidents happen, don't they? 

The intelligentsia assume that, because Jim's 
a low-spoken, well-read actor who plays hard- 
berled babies but isn't one, by contrast he must 
possess a really brilliant and unusual mind. 
And again the pendulum swings too far in the 
wrong direction. He is neither the best read ac- 
tor in town, nor the best informed, nor the pos- 
sessor of the keenest mind (though the latter is 
a fine one, believe me on that). 

"What do you think about this question, Mr. 
Cagney?" a noted author or thinker will say in 
conversation, sitting slightly on the edge of his 
chair, star dust up his nose an inch thick. 

And Jimmy will say what he thinks, logically, 
in good English, and in tones so modulated that 
one must almost lean forward to catch the words 
and everyone will be deluded into thinking 

something pretty dawgone unusual has just been 
uttered. It hasn't at all. It was merely one 
man's opinion keenly stated, and well thought 

The business man, noting Jimmy's adjust- 
ments to contract troubles, will sigh, "Now 
there's a man who has a soul for business. 
There's a whiz." 

As a matter of fact, I imagine Jimmy is as to- 
tally unprepared to cope with business proposi- 
tions outside the studio as the amazed sewing 
machine agent was in his dealings with Aunt 
Tillie. And what went on there was plenty. 

No, Jimmy just doesn't add up to preconceived 
ideas about himself. In fact, the very words 
"adding up" have little place in the life of Cag- 
ney. for, like most July-born people — whim- 
sically strong, sensitive and sentimental, roman- 
tically unstable — facts and figures and adding 
up and taking away have little or no place in 
their lives. 

"Hey, don't walk across there," he'll call to a 
friend, who has attempted a short cut across the 

"You mean you're actually going to walk all 
(Continued on page 87) 



Mr. Hesse as a private citizen has 
his pet models — locomotives! But 
he obviously enjoys photographing 
the stars; he admires them not be- 
cause of their glamour, but be- 
cause he likes them "as genuine 
people capable of sincere hard 
work." Here he works on special 
Photoplay assignments with (left to 
right) Bette Davis, Ginger Rogers, 
Claudette Colbert, Alice Faye, Nor- 
ma Shearer and Dorothy Lamour 

nuwn specialist in 

Hesse will hence- 

Man Behind the 

for of the full-length 

our fashion section 

ig trip to the West Coast 

jgraphed at work — which 

you see on these pages. 

s, Mr. Hesse is a compe- 

artist with, surprisingly 

i of humor and a devastat- 

P"ing" his models so that they 

ease. There is a vibrant, 

il quality to Hesse's work. 

Watching him take pictures, one is fascinated 
by his ability to bring out the inner stimulating 
personality of the subject in a very short time. 
He explains it as a bond of complete harmony 
which must exist between the artist and the 
sitter, otherwise the picture is merely a me- 
chanical registration of physical effort. 

Born in Brooklyn forty-two years ago, Mr. 
Hesse yearned successively to be an actor and 
a surgeon. His great idea came in 1925 when 
he foresaw the future in color photography. In 
1928 he was the first to record in color the like- 
nesses of motion-picture stars; today his work 
decorates America's best magazines. 

V * 

Alice Joyce 

Virginia Pearson 

Gloria Swanson 



Left, Marguerite Clark; above, Janet Gaynor 


^V 5 ^ 

Billie Burke 

Olive Tell 

l v ^J 


Norma Talmadge 

Norma Shearer 

y Miles Minter 

Ethel Teare 

Jobyna Ralston 

e Moorehead 

Violet Heming 



" «*^ * ' 



Shirley Mason 

/n f/iose days 'twas the sporting 
thing to do for a maid to lose a 
tennis set, but never, never her 
girlish modesty. Then in came shorts, 
out came milady, and into the trunk 
went these "fashion firsts" — but 
not so far that Photoplay cou/c/n'f 
resurrect them for this gay revival 





Hope Hampton 

Doris Kenyon 

Leila Hyams; Myrna Loy 

It's all a matter of facial form, so far as these 
athletic aspirants are concerned. Allan Jones 
(left, top), M-G-M chanter, lifts his eyebrow, 
grits his teeth — and the bowling alley hums. 
Jimmy Stewart (top, center), "Made for Each 
Other" hero, favors the wrinkled brow method, 
while Warner Baxter (right) of "Wife, Hus- 
band and Friend" dead-pans by comparison. 
Anita Louise (left) takes the Helen Wills poker- 
face way, performs as efficiently on the tennis 
court as on the set of "Little Princess." Johnny 
"Scat" Davis (right) of "Brother Rat" goes in 
for bangs and trie tongue-in-the-cheek technique, 
while non-conformist Cagney, in trim from the 
new "Oklahoma Kid," plays his own little game 


Candid calisthenics continue 
with Robert Taylor of "Stand 
Up and Fight" taking a stance 
on the baseball diamond . . . 

. . . and Rosalind Russell in the 
rough. The star of "The Cita- 
del" is a leading member of 
Hollywood's links fraternity 

Bowler number two is Gene 
Raymond who believes in con- 
centration for the cause 

Nelson Eddy's new film love in 
"Song of the West" — Virginia 
Bruce, on the tennis court 

^cdbdL-GA LmXcL^Ca^s^^ 

— and Photoplay did. Result: some 
very odd angles on the stars f who 
mostly had their eyes on the ball and 
not on the cameraman's "o'xrdie" 





nforming to the industry's own rules 
what's right and what's polite, Para- 
unt decided the Big Apple of Paris 
the early I900's was definitely not 
it — or polite — for stars Claudette 
Ibert ahd Herbert Marshall. This is 
dance that now takes its place 

100 FACES 

Master dramatist at sixteen is Wil| 
liam Halop, first tragedian, at $651 
a week, of Warners' "Dead En< 
Kids." To his native Brooklyn, h< 
was Billy, son of Attorney Halop 
a normal, intelligent American boy 
to Broadway, influenced by his rec 
ord at the Professional Children' 
School, he was first choice for i 
spirited, hard-boiled juvenile; + 
Hollywood, he is the versatile artis 
of "They Made Me a Criminal"— 
the boy with the million-dollar facj 


m *** 










-? ^ 



Luise Rainer, caught with her 
purse down (above, right), soon 
recovers her poise. Perhaps 
her reconciliation with Clif- 
ford Odets has made her coy 

Our determined terror of the type- 
writer is on the loose again and 
already the stars' ears are burning 

Modern Miracle of Love 

I HERE is a strange and lovely story about 
young Gloria Dickson (who is slowly but surely 
going places at Warner Brothers, currently in 
"They Made Me a Criminal") and Perc West- 
more. It is a sort of modern version of the old 
tale of Pygmalion and Galatea . . . remember 
the myth about the sculptor, Pygmalion, who 
fell in love with the marble Galatea, statue of 
his own creation? And whose love was so fine 
and true that Aphrodite gave the statue life? 

Well, as you know, Perc is head make-up 
man at Warners and it was to him that Gloria 
was sent pending her first test for a screen role. 

Perc did his best to give her photographic 
charm, but Gloria failed in the test. Yes, she 
had a contract, but now they said she did not 
photograph as well as had been expected . . . 
which meant, of course, that her career was 
finished before it was, in truth, begun. 

Heartbroken, she returned to Perc "Can't 
you help me?" she begged. 

And Perc did. He kept her with him for long 
hours, studying her face, its contours, its pos- 
sibilities. He drew sketches of her and poured 
over them at every free moment, seeking means 
of improvement. He tried out a new type of lip 
rouge and different curves of mouth anci 
brow. He even invented a new kind of powder 
for her which provided more light and shadow 
and therefore made her face more interesting. 


comes visiting from Eng 
give pretty Arleen Whelan the 
once-over, while Mrs. Lupino 
(right, center) has already put her 
stamp of approval on daughter 
Ida's marriage to Louis Hayward 

Painstakingly, patiently and, as time passed, 
tenderly, he created from this girl, lovely to 
look at but providing difficult photographic 
problems, a new and different screen personal- 
ity. He, this modern Pygmalion, created a 
Galatea who, in her next test for a role, came 
through triumphantly! 

And while the attractive young make-up art- 
ist was accomplishing this miracle, another 
happened . . . the miracle of love. This mod- 
ern Pygmalion fell in love with the Galatea of 
his own creation, and she with him. 

So, in due time, they were married and now 
they are living happily ever after! 

Cradle Wit 

ALTHOUGH not a member of that parental 
group given to perpetual discussion of their 
children, Irene Dunne can't resist telling this 
one about her small adopted daughter, Mary 
Frances, aged three. 

While in New York recently, Irene and her 
husband, Dr. Griffin, Mary Frances and her 
nurse lived in a suite and always ordered meals, 
including Mary Frances' repasts, over the tele- 
phone. Came then a certain midday when 
Irene was busy with interviews and luncheon 
was delayed. 

At first. Mary Frances, quietly playing with 
hi-r dolls, appeared not to notice. But at last 
she moved determinedly to the phone and lifted 
the i 

"Room service," she said distinctly. And then, 
when the connection had been made: 

"This is suite 1002. I want to order the baby's 

She got it, too! 

Very Light Housekeeping 

OLIVIA de HAVILLAND and her sister, Joan 
Fontaine, have been having quite a time for 
themselves, redecorating and refurnishing their 

Farewell celebration — just before he took off for a vacation in 
South America, Tyrone Power stepped out with Mrs. Jock Whitney 
(her husband's in trie East), properly chaperoned by the Hank Fondas 

home in Hollywood Hills. They were about fin- 
ished and expected to be particularly proud of 
the living room, when they discovered to their 
horror that their newly acquired piece de re- 
sistance for this room, one of those famous and, 
I might add, expensive Jesso paintings, "fought" 
like the proverbial cats and dogs with the new 
furniture upholstering. So now they are hav- 
ing the furniture done over in hand-blocked 
linen especially designed to match the "Jesso." 

Still speaking of household renovations and 
such . . . Bette Davis, who recently inherited 
Kay Francis' palatial "dressing room" on the 
Warner Brothers lot (which, incidentally, boasts 
of five rooms and two baths!), is having the fire- 
place done over. 

Seems that Kay, for some reason, ordered the 
real fireplace bricked up and a gas log installed. 
On the other hand, Bette, possessing a particu- 
lar affection for open fires, is having the old fire- 
place restored. 

The other day, George Brent and some others 
in the cast of "Dark Victory" got together and 
sent her a present accompanied by a note. 

"No hearth is complete without its white fur 
rug in front. Here is yours," the note said. 

The "rug" proved to be a mangy goat skin, 
picked up in a shop in Los Angeles' Mexican 

Love Will Find a Way 

THEY don't talk much about it on the 20th 
Century-Fox lot, but everyone knows what is 
happening to Arleen Whelan, the little Titian- 

haired manicurist who a year ago was Holly- 
wood's newest Cinderella. 

Yes, she was busy with her buffer and scissors 
and polish, never seeking or expecting fame and 
fortune, when she was "discovered" by a 20th 
Century director and thrust into the limelight — 
photographed, publicized, rushed into the lead- 
ing feminine role with Warner Baxter in "Kid- 
napped." With that picture not yet released, 
she was groomed for the lead with Tyrone 
Power in "Jesse James." She was going places, 
everyone thought. Probably she thought so, 

And then "Kidnapped" laid an egg, which 
means that it didn't do so well at the box of- 
fice. And Arleen's role in "Jesse James" was 
given to young Nancy Kelly. 

"Of course, she'll get another part soon," ev- 
eryone said. She did — one in Shirley Temple's 
new picture, "The Little Princess." But that, 
too, was quickly taken away. Her hair was too 
dazzling beside Shirley's yellow locks, was the 
excuse. But Arleen, as well as everybody else, 
knew she was, as we say it here in Hollywood, 
crassly and cruelly, "on the skids"; that noth- 
ing short of a miracle could save her. 

Still, there are such things as silver linings to 
many a dark cloud. There is, in Arleen's case 
. . . Richard Greene. 

When Dick Greene came over here from the 
British stage, the publicity department thought 
it would be lovely if he should fall in love with 
Sonja Henie, whose leading man he was to be 
in "My Lucky Star." But he took one look at 
Arleen and that was that. He is crazy about 
her. (Continued on page 68) 




E REGRET that it is necessary for us to have this heart-to-heart talk with our 
readers and our friends in Hollywood. 

For more than twenty-five years Photoplay has stood as a friend and champion of 
the motion-picture industry and has demonstrated consistently, we believe, its eagerness 
to play fair with our readers, the stars and the industry as a whole. 

Unintentionally, we have been made to appear to step out of this character upon 
which we so pride ourselves. 

Last month, we published in Photoplay a story in which we described friendships 
existing between prominent men and women in Hollywood, friendships which are well 
known to our readers and the public through articles that have appeared here and else- 
where for some time. 

The purpose of our story was to show that these relationships in their companion- 
able and mutually helpful aspects were so worth while that it was our hope that they 
could eventually culminate in happy marriages. 

We regret that the purpose of this story was misinterpreted in certain newspapers. 
Excerpts were republished without permission and removed from the context, making 
these friendships appear in a light far from our original intention. 

Such an interpretation is unfair, not only to this magazine but to the stars involved. 
We must stand on our reputation of solid and constructive publishing history when we 
assure the stars mentioned in the story, as well as their studios, that we genuinely re- 
gret these unfortunate interpretations of our meaning and motive. This article was in- 
tended merely to portray some of the finest friendships we have ever known. 


• PYGMALION — Pascal-M-G-M 

Gk. >KGE BERNARD SHAW'S first full-length pic- 
ture is worth waiting for. Humorous and philo- 
sophical, it is a modern interpretation of the mytho- 
logical tale of "Pygmalion and Galatea" and has to 
do with a crotchety professor of phonetics who 
adopts an ignorant cockney flower girl, builds her 
into a social success with royalty, finally falls in 
love with his own creation. Mr. Shaw, aside from 
the original play, obviously had his finger in the 
screen version too; the directorial credit belongs to 
Anthony Asquith assisted by Leslie Howard. 
Wendy Hiller has a wistful charm and is an amaz- 
ingly adept actress; Wilfred Lawson, as her dustman 
father, is a joy; Leslie Howard is his charming facile 
• nd the production extremely clever. 

Small-United Artists 

HERE'S "A Yank at Oxford" turned backwards. 
It's Louis Hayward, a Britisher who was a sensa- 
tional athlete at Cambridge, who brings his accent 
and his physique to West Point. Gosh, do the cadets 
hate him! But he's nice to Tom Brown, and that 
young man develops a case of hero worship. There 
is the usual to-do about football, a widowed mother, 
and Breaking Limits. As a result of his actions 
Louis is "Silenced" by the other cadets, which is 
like being put in Coventry; wherefore you will 
spend much of the picture feeling embarrassed for 
everybody. This new Richard Carlson does some 
good work as Hay ward's roommate; Joan Fontaine 
is the girl Louis wins when, at the last moment, he 
is put into the Big Game. 





• TRADE WINDS— Wanger-United Artists 


I HE Brothers Warner have been very successful 
making unusual pictures, and while it is true "Dawn 
Patrol" has been made before (in 1930), still it is 
also true that to a whole new generation of movie- 
goers, surfeited with love triangles, this stirring 
aviation war drama of men without women will 
prove a completely satisfying and thoughtful ex- 
perience. Stressing the "War is Hell" angle, it 
builds up an amazing and gallant picture of heroism, 
horror and deep friendship among the men in the 
Flying Corps in France in 1915. The combat 
in the air are continuously thrilling, stun- 
ningly photographed and the whole is carried to a 
logical if tragic conclusion. 

You will weep watching a flight commander, Basil 
Rathbone. spiritually disintegrate under the task of 
sending men to their death in "old crates patched 
up with spit and a few wires" against the might of 
expert German squadrons. Errol Flynn, his captain, 
accuses Rathbone of being an executioner, until he 
himself is made commander and in turn has to send 
the young brother of his best friend (David Niven) 
to certain death Later when Niven volunteers for a 
lone mission Errol goes in his place. 

It is not a pretty tale, but the solid direction of 
Edmund Goulding prevented any maudlin senti- 
mentality. David Niven emerges as a potential itai 
of great magnitude: Flynn himself i-- capable, with- 
out any fireworks: Basil Rathbone, though inclined 
to keep that menace glint, is satisfying; Donald Crisp 
and Carl Esmond are outstanding. 

IT'S in this picture that Joan Bennett dyes her hair 
black and looks so much like Hedy Lamarr you 
almost expect to see Charles Boyer pop out of her 
wardrobe trunk. Fraught with suspense and action, 
as well as romance, the story flits up and down the 
scale of human experience and half around the 
world before its climax. In the beginning, Joan 
shoots Sidney Blackmer because she believes he has 
caused her sister's suicide. Then, with a grand 
splash, La Bennett drives her car off a ferry boat 
and Ralph Bellamy, after seeing her do this, con- 
siders the case closed. You can hardly blame him. 
Yet, like that penny you've heard about, the gal ap- 
pears in Honolulu, does her transformation from 
blonde to brunette, and sails off to India. In pursuit 
are Fredric March, persistent detective Bellamy, 
and Ann Sothern, a secretary. Freddie falls for 
Joan and exchanges clews for kisses and flirtations; 
Ralph gets out his nighteyes for Ann. All's well 
until Robert Elliott, a rival sleuth, appears upon the 
scene. Then the entire company scampers back to 
San Francisco, just in time for the denouement. 
Many will think this is March's best role since "A 
Star Is Born." Certainly he handles it well. Bel- 
lamy does a repeat on his "Awful Truth" character, 
which you may be awful tired of, and Ann Sothern 
has beautiful chances to display her knack for com- 
edy. Blackmer, Elliott and Thomas Mitchell do 
what they can in limited space; anyway, "Trade 
Winds" here blow up a highly entertaining Who- 

TOU will remember the excellent work newcomer 
John Garfield did in "Four Daughters." Now you 
will see him again, this time as the hard-hitting 
reporter who brings to justice a New York rack- 
eteer. Much of the punch in this picture must de- 
pend on Garfield's fine technique since the story 
itself, although very well done, is essentially just 
another Warners' prison expose. No belittlement of 
the film itself is intended; every shock device is 
there, presented ruthlessly to stand you in your 
seats. People are beaten and killed, there's a bomb- 
ing, and lots of prison conditions for you to be sick 

Stanley Fields does a beautiful job as Bull, the 
gorilla-like racketeer who runs a Fisherman's Pro- 
tective Association, likes practical jokes, and douses 
his expensively-clothed ape's body with perfume. 
He is supported by the city administration. Through 
the testimony of a beleaguered captain, however, he 
is sent to Blackwell's Island and there (you may see 
the humor in the whole situation) he takes over the 
prison, fixes the hospital into a lounge and starts a 
prison racket. Stupidly enough he takes a night off 
to kill Dick Purcell, a policeman; Garfield gets him- 
self a term at Blackwell, snoops around, and event- 
ually brings Nemesis to Bull and the other bandits. 
All of this is done with pace and almost constant 
action, with shock sequences closely woven into the 
general pattern. Victor Jory plays the new and 
honest police commissioner, Rosemary Lane the 
policeman's sister who loves Garfield. 



AkIM TAMEROFF used to be a Cossack. So he 
brings his Cossack traditions of hard living to 
America. Finally he meets his son, who also is a 
Cossack. Federal G-men pinch Papa Cossack be- 
cause he has hijacked cattle stolen from the gov- 
ernment corral, and son Cossack joins the army. 
This one then gets transferred to Leavenworth so 
he can help Papa crack out of the pen. but changes 
his mind at the last minute (because he has grown 
to love the army) and leads a posse to catch Papa 
Cossack again. Do you see any sense in it all? 
Neither do we. Leif Erikson plays the son: Frances 
Farmer is his Woman who clings through Thick and 
Thin: and Tamiroff certainly acts like a Cossack. 
Out of all this you may find a few laughs. 


nARNERS have taken the greatest melodrama of 
them all. complete with chase, and made it in Tech- 
nicolor. The result is surprising but awfully ex- 
citing. Boy, do those Mounties get their man! It 
all begins when a bunch of bandits hold up a river 
boat, stealing the trappers' gold and killing Pat 
Knowles, one of the Mounties. Red-coated Dick 
Foran then starts in pursuit and the rest of the 
picture is concerned with his efforts to track down 
the killers. Before success comes, there's a fight to 
the death on the edge of a cliff, and the villagers 
try to lynch the heroine's father among other things. 
Blood is very pretty in Technicolor. Foran gives his 
usual virile performance, with both Gale Page and 
Gloria Dickson working to get him. 

UP THE RIVER— 20th Century-Fox 

IF you are not so sick of prison pictures that you 
can't stand even the thought of them, you may find 
some humor in this. It was made for the first time 
eight years ago. and this is a better version, but the 
idea of kidding the American prison system still 

Of course, it's a matter of opinion whether or not 
going to jail is funny. Anyway, this is the story 
of two confidence men in stir, who discover a 
youngster about to make a break for freedom. He 
is Tony Martin and he's pipped because crooks are 
after his family's savings. Preston Foster and 
Arthur Treacher are the confidence men and they 
fix e%'erything. In addition, they steal the picture. 
Phyllis Brooks is the girl. 



Out West with the Hardys 
Blackwell's Island The Dawn Patrol 

The Cowboy and the Lady Pygmalion 

Dramatic School Thanks for Everything 
Flirting with Fate Thanks for the Memory 
Prison Without Bars Trade Winds 

There's That Woman Again 


John Garfield in "Blackwell's Island" 

Gary Cooper in "The Cowboy and the Lady" 
Merle Oberon in "The Cowboy and the Lady" 
Harry Davenport in "The Cowboy and the Lady" 

David Niven in "The Dawn Patrol" 

Luise Rainer in "Dramatic School" 
Paulette Goddard in "Dramatic School" 

Joe E. Brown in "Flirting with Fate" 

Mickey Rooney in "Out West with the Hardys" 
Virginia Weidler in "Out West with the Hardys" 

Jack Haley in "Thanks for Everything" 

Melvyn Douglas in "There's That Woman Again" 
Virginia Bruce in "There's That Woman Again" 

Joan Crawford in "The Shining Hour" 
Margaret Sullavan in "The Shining Hour" 

Fredric March in "Trade Winds" 
Joan Bennett in "Trade Winds" 


IT may slightly disconcert you when you discover 
that the "woman" in this is not the same one who 
pleased you in "There's Always a Woman." And 
since this delightful film is a sequel to the other. 
with Melvyn Douglas still playing the detective: 
and since the "woman" in the case is his wife . . . 
Well, anyway. Joan Blondell (who was in the first 
film i miraculously changes into Virginia Bruce 
here, which is some kind of a score for Melvyn and 
Columbia — especially when you consider that not 
an ounce of comedy or drama is sacrificed to the 

The idea, you may remember, is that hard work- 
ing and conscientious Snooper Douglas has got a 
wife who is pleasantly hair-brained and who also 
wants to detect. Her methods are questionable, but 
somehow or other she turns the trick in the end. 
Now. the problem that faces Melvyn and Virginia 
is a little matter of systematic jewel thefts from a 
swank jewelry' shop. People seem to die all over 
the place and Melvyn is called in to do something 
about the situation. He gets himself a suspect, Gor- 
don Oliver, and is progressing well enough when 
Virginia decides to crack the case on her own. From 
that time on Melvyn is hampered to distraction be- 
cause he not only has to chase down clews but Vir- 
ginia also. 

There's a good trick in this plot: there is also 
Margaret Lindsay, as co-owner of the jewel shop: 
Stanley Ridges and Pierre Watkin, all doing good 

20th Century-Fox 

In a country now suddenly full of intense prop- 
aganda which is meant to incite America to hate of 
the 1914 variety, this is a pleasant film pill for quick 
swallowing. Aside from being an entertaining pic- 
ture, it discounts the "let's go over there and show 
them" theory and puts in a plug for honest Ameri- 
canism. The story is built around the nation's sam- 
ple Average Man, chosen by a contest which 
Adolphe Menjou's advertising agency sponsors. 
Jack Haley wins the prize and rushes off to New 
York to get it; then Menjou and his assistant. Jack 
Oakie. have a brain storm: why not watch Haley, 
find out what he likes, and predict the trends in 
buying and selling? To do this they must keep 
Haley poor. So they cheat him of his prize money 
and give him a cheap job with the agency. The 
picture reaches its high-gear speed when an Am- 
bassador employs Menjou to find out whether or not 
the average man would go abroad to fight. Oakie 
and Menjou get Haley bedridden with poison ivy 
and ply him with fake newspapers and radio pro- 
grams. "Phooey." remarks Haley. "Let Europe set- 
tle its own difficulties." Then the agency - fakes a 
war aggression against America and it's a different 
story: Mr. Average Man leaps out of bed and rushes 
out to defend his country, with utterly screwball 
The romance quotient is supplied by Arleen 
in, Haley's home-town sweetie, and by Binnie 
Barnes. The cast has a good time: so will you. 

(Continued on page 88) 


Foreign imports, domestic glamour, 
romance, adventure — all exciting 
set news for your 1939 screen fare 


HEAVE a sigh for gay, carefree Hollywood. 
The old order changeth — the dear dead 
days are gone. They're all punching 
time clocks now! Stars and everybody. 

Strange music it is to our ears, the regiment- 
ing ring of a timecard, as we canvass the Holly- 
wood movie factories on our monthly studio 
check-up and set inventory. Everybody who 
drags in less than $1,000 a week jerks the handle 
— and you'd be surprised at the haughty high- 
ups you know who rack their daily records just 
like Minnie, the buttonhole maker. 

Our snooping reporter says 
there's a treat in store in "The 
Little Princess" with Shirley 
Temple, Anita Louise and Ar- 
thur Treacher (top). "Hotel Im- 
perial," Paramount's jinx picture 
(remember?), gets going with 
Ray Milland (left) and the 
"almost jinxod" Isa Miranda 

At Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, for instance, where 
our curiosity takes us first, the clang of the work 
cards sounds like a general fire alarm. Not that 
M-G-M pays off in beer checks and bottle tops 
(still everybody can't be Garbo at $6,000 per), 
but Metro is as busy as that cranberry merchant 
putting up your New Year's screen fare. 

Naturally, we make quick tracks for the Hedy 
Lamarr picture. Or would you call it the Spen- 
cer Tracy picture? Either way, it's called "I 
Take This Woman," and from what we see of 
this woman we'll take her, too — meaning Hedy, 
of course. 

Cannily, M-G-M picked a glamour script for 
Hedy's first home lot picture. She's cast as a 
New York party girl, dripping with satins and 
ermine, and wearing a new Adrian creation in 
practically every scene. 

She's a pleasure-loving siren who has a lot 
of fun all over South America with playboy 
Walter Pidgeon, but finds real happiness slaving 
in New York's Ghetto with crusading doctor 
Spencer Tracy. 

It's the Ghetto clinic we see, full of weary, 
aged and downtrodden folk, among whom Hedy 
floats about like a lovely dark angel. Lots of 
close-ups in this scene, because it's Hedy's face 
that will make her click if anything. She's a 
little outsize in the body. Her hair, we notice, 
is still long and sweeping. They wanted to put 
it up in a pile-up hair-do, but Hedy said noth- 
ing stirring, fashion or no fashion. And Hedwig 
Kiesler has a mind of her own. 

WE'D like to see Hedy the Glamour Girl punch 
her timecard a little later, too — but Hedy isn't 
all of Hollywood, so we move on to "The Girl 
Downstairs" and imported Franciska Gaal. 



1^1 *f 

m ' ™ 

i 1 al 



i*T7*< t 

-•» - 


Franciska is the Hungarian taffy-top "Buc- 
caneer" girl that Cecil B. De Mille called "the 
Helen Hayes of Europe." But even C. B. 
couldn't keep her on the Paramount lot. They 
let her go and M-G-M snapped her up. Now 
she's making her first movie at M-G-M as Fran- 
chot Tone hands in his last. 

Franciska is in pigtails and a nightie as we en- 
ter. This is a Cinderella-type story, with Fran- 
chot a wealthy man-about-town forbidden to 
see rich girl Rita Johnson. As the scullery maid 
go-between, Franciska makes a little time her- 
self with Franchot and things get exciting. 

While Director Norman Taurog lines up the 
shot, we get in a few words with Franchot, 
which leads us to believe that he's not forsaking 
Hollywood at all — just taking a vacation. "Hol- 
lywood has been too good to me," he says. 
"Anyway, I can't play on Broadway in the sum- 
mer." What we gather is that after the Group 
Theatre play, "Gentle People," and a little vaca- 
tion in New York, he'll be back making movies 

Franciska is ready to go now, so we watch her 
in a kitchen scene being very domestic with a 
lot of pots and pans which get all mixed up with 
the pigtails. She speaks an odd English learned 
in six months of concentrated boning. But 
when she drops a pot and yelps, "O-w-w-w-w!" 
it's perfectly understandable. 

"What's the matter?" Taurog wants to know. 

Well, confides Franciska, she's been playing 
tennis and her hands are all blistered. Tossing 
the pots and pans around is no joke with her 
sore paws. 

"You ought to take up horseback riding," sug- 
gests Taurog, grinning. 

Franciska does a slow burn. "If I did," she 


Another picture that seemed jinxed — 
Eleanor Powell's "Honolulu" (top) — is 
under way again. On the "Girl Down- 
stairs" set, Franchot Tone (right, 
with Rita Johnson) drops a hint that 
will be exciting news for his fans 

retorts, "you'd have me sliding down banisters 
or something!" 

HE find Robert Young in the same piqued mood 
next door on the "Honolulu" set. He looks very 
unhappy, sitting at a table amid the lush tropical 
surroundings of an Island hotel. "Honolulu," 
in case you've forgotten, is the Eleanor Powell 
Hawaiian picture with all the hula hip shifters 
and plaintive music. It started six months ago 
and then stopped. Now it's back at work again. 
Bob plays a movie star with a wealthy Hawaiian 
pineapple grower double and the plot is one of 
those mistaken identity things — always a good 
laugh; only Bob isn't laughing now. Eddie Buz- 
zell, the director, is explaining a gag to him and 
Bob listens as if Eddie were preaching his fu- 

"In this shot," Eddie explains, "this great Dane 


dog climbs up in your lap and licks your face. 
That ought to be a great gag." 

"For the Dane, maybe," says Bob sourly, "but 
not for me!" 

STARTLING is the word for the apparition 
we encounter next at Warners — Jimmy Cagney 
in chaps, sombrero and six-guns. Cagney, the 
boy from the East side, has gone so Western in 
"Oklahoma Kid" that his dogs growl at him 
when he comes home nights. 

We have to drive thirty miles to catch Cagney 
the cowpoke killer at his chores. The old Iver- 
son Ranch, near Chatsworth, which has been the 
scene of rough-riding movies since Bronco Billy 
Anderson, is Oklahoma this time, at a cost of 
$200 a day to Warners. 

Jimmy, Humphrey Bogart, Rosemary Lane 
and Donald Crisp whip up the action in "Okla- 


•. - .«>k on U Jimmy 

lallj He'd 

.1 in high gun at hia hip 

i'd think i Six. 

But the transformation w .. Jimmy 

th a rueful face The high heels 

him lame for .1 week and m did the hone. 

■uldn't stand up and yet he couldn't .sit 

down u which/ 1 says Jimmy, "is a terrible state 

Back ui the studio, Warners arc busy with two 
1 offerings called, "Always Leave Them 
hing" and "Yes. My Darling Daughter." 

Tin- latter is the film version of the play that 
intrigued Broadway. It now makes jobs for 

Priscilla Lane, Jeffrey Lynn, Fay Bainter, Ro- 
land Young and Genevieve Tobin in Holly- 
An ardent "woman's rights" feminist 
cant take it when her own daughter goes mod- 
ern about her morals. 

Its our good luck to happen in on the key 
where Priscilla is going away for a week 
end and Fay finds it out. Few actresses in Hol- 
<! can make us believe better than Fay 
Bainter Beside her, Priscilla looks like a 
drama school student; but it's personality that 
counts in the movies — that's why Priscilla gets 
top billing in the picture. 

The scene we see is long and each time some 
small thing isn't quite right for Director Bill 
Keighley. Each time Priscilla carries a large 
suitcase from the hall into the cosy little study- 
where Fay Bainter sits. After a few takes it 
gets monotonous. "I think I'll sell out my con- 
tract." cracks Priscilla, "to a redcap!" 

Next door on the laugh shift are Dick Powell, 
ZaSu Pitts, Gale Page and Ann Sheridan in the 
title of the month for us — "Always Leave Them 
Laughing." In this, Dick's a corn belt musician 
who thinks he's a great symphony composer, 
but winds up as the jitterbugs' delight when he 
gets to the big city. It's always comedy for 
Powell, of course, comedy or music — and this 
one has both, with Dick taking care of the vo- 
cals and ZaSu rallying around for the laughs. 

We watch Dick at his home dinner table sur- 
rounded by a flock of loving old lady aunts. 
ZaSu is one of these, very lavender-and-old- 
lace-ish with her hair streaked by gray make- 
up. They asked ZaSu if she thought she could 
act an old lady and the irrepressible Pitts an- 
swered, ''Act one? Good Lord, I am one!" But 
it's not true. 

We're pondering this when the scene gets 
rolling. Then suddenly — bam! — a water glass 
whizzes past our ear and smacks against an arc 
light. "Oh, dear," wails a familiar voice, "I'm 
sorry- but I forgot my lines!" We can't under- 
stand what that has to do with assault and bat- 
tery, until our guide explains that when ZaSu 
blows up she always throws whatever she has 
in her hand at whoever is handy! Quaint — what? 

At Twentieth Century-Fox, there's "The Little 
Princess," which is. as usual, all Shirley Temple. 
Oh, there are Arthur Treacher and Anita Louise 
and a few others hanging around just for at- 
mosphere. The story makes Shirley a super- 
rich little girl in an English boarding school. 
But her papa loses his money and then every- 
one is mean to Shirley. She's a persecuted little 
. and what not — but it all comes out right 
in the end. you can be doubly sure. 

Shirley's stock is still up the day we catch 
her. She's having a parly both on the screen 
and off. She's all dressed up and as pretty as a 
dimpled doll The Little Princess," as you 
know, is in Technicolor (our idea of the best 
idea of the season — Temple in Techni- 
color) and for a while they tried to use color 
make-up on Shirley. But it was no go. Her 
natural tinting was much superior. 

Shirley looks in the pink now; she's sur- 
rounded by a score of little tots, extras in the 
pictore and members of "The Little Princess 

Club"— a tribute to Shirley's organizing talents. 
When the routine over they all crowd 

around Shirley. A tea party iled (they 

still make Shirley's set day seem like fun) and 
Mi- Temple capably herds the squealing 
moviettes to a large table for the "business 
meeting." They're all a little eager to get to 
the food and crowd around Shirley. "You 
mustn't smother your president, you know," 
she warns them. 



Bette Davis, star of Warners' "Dark Victory," 
chooses a stunning all-suede costume for chic mid- 
season sport wear. Voris, the designer, employed a 
multicolor theme in its creation — moss green for 
the long jacket smartly buttoned in suede, lipstick 
red for the short-sleeved sweater blouse (which 
peeks out at the square neckline of the jacket) and 
walnut brown for the six-gore skirt. All the colors 
combine in the pompon quill of the disc beret 


We get in on the tea party, which is very 
noisy with delighted squeals as the LPC-ers do 
away with stacks of this and that in the way 
of goodies. 

HE move on to the set of "Wife, Husband and 
Friend," Warner Baxter's latest, in line with 
the current Hollywood vogue of headlining pic- 
tures so there won't be any misunderstanding 
as to what ifs all about: "Rich Man, Poor 
Girl," "Wife, Doctor and Nurse," "Wife Versus 
Secretary," and so forth. All you have to do 
is read the title and take your pick — nothing 
left to the imagination. 

The first thing Warner tells us, though, is 
that, title or no title, it's the best script he's had 
since he's been at Fox Hills — and that's some 
years now. 

The plot, one they dug up from the musty 
files of shelved scripts, was originally called 
"Career in C-Major." It's about wife Loretta 
Young, who succumbs to the blandishments of 
a phony voice teacher, undertakes a career, 

Dick Powell discovered that "hang- 
ing from the chandelier" wasn't just 
a figure of speech when he was 
handed the script of that gay com- 
edy, "Always LeaveThem Laughing" 

ruins Warner's home. So to get even Warner 
warbles a little himself, finds he has a real voice 
and becomes another Tibbett. Binnie Barnes — 
she's all over these days — is the "friend" with 
that understanding nature. 

Warner surprises us by admitting he used to 
sing for a living, on the stage and radio. When 
he was a kid, he was a choir boy. "Fine," we 
say; "then you can look like a singer anyway!" 
"I can do more than that," he retorts. "How's 
this?" Well, he's still no Tibbett, but it isn't a 
bit bad. 

But Gregory Ratoff and his rushing Russian 
accent interrupt the impromptu concert. "Sink- 
ing, is it? It's hecting I'm wanting," he ex- 
plodes. So Warner bows to the inevitable. 

"Hotel Imperial" has finally got going over 
at Paramount after two ill-fated starts. "Hotel 
Imperial" is the prize jinx picture in all movie 
history. Dietrich started it first (although it 
was done once before by Pola Negri in the old 
days). Paramount called it off after dropping a 
cool quarter million. Next came Margaret Sul- 
lavan. Halfway through, she cracked her arm. 
Again Paramount declared a costly moratorium 
(Continued on page 79) 


"Snow Bound" — M-G-M's star, Maureen 
O'Sullivan, clad in a costume that assures 
warmth, comfort and chic — a nctural water- 
proof parka with red and white braid trim 
and belt (which conceals a drawstring 
waistline), teal blue gabardine ski pants and 
gaily colored all-wool mHtsns and socks. 
Maureen, on loan to Columbia, is now 
currently filming their "Let Us Live" 


Gladys Swarthout, currently appearing in Paramount' s 
"Ambush," poses on these two pages in chic ward- 
robe essentials for the fashion-conscious girl. Her 
black Coney fur coat (left) is practically styled for 
warmth and comfort, with loose open sleeves, broad 
shoulders, and a collar that may be worn open, as 
Miss Swarthout wears it, or closed tightly at the neck. 
Her suit (above) discloses a more feminine version of 
the so-popular tailleur. Of black wool knit, it fea- 
tures a bias skirt and fitted jacket which is stylized 
wirh small revers, draped sleeves, a single-button clos- 
ing and patch pockets. A grey Cashmere sweater 
tucks into the skirt in place of a blouse. Notice how 
cleverly Miss Swarthout knots her printed chiffon 
scarf into a novel pocket kerchief. A softly draped 
beret of emerald green felt (insert, left) lends a dash 
of color to this suit costume. 

In the close-up on the left, you will see the detail 
of the roomy rabbit's hair bag that Miss Swarthout 
carries with the variable essential costumes shown on 
these two pages. Her gloves are hand-sewn and one- 

Featured on the opposite page is a close-up view 
of Miss Swarthout's suit without the jacket. Note 
how the skirt belt closes with grey leather buckles in 
polo style. The pocket kerchief is untied to fashion 
a scarf — and the suit is now transformed into a smart 
sport costume. 

As an alternate coat, Miss Swarthout chooses this 
Bernard Newman model of tweed, plaided in henna, 
orange and green (opposite page, left). This won- 
derful greatcoat strikingly tops many another frock in 
Miss Swarthout's wardrobe. 

It is interesting to note that the long bob continues 
to be a favorite with Hollywood stars. 





■ ■ 

■ ■ 

The entire beach will notice this smart 
play suit of white celanese rayon 
jersey with bright coral accent. The 
skirt is pleated, the waistline corse- 
leted and the blouse draped in the 
manner of the newest gowns. In bril- 
liant contrast, the "slightly mad" straw 
sombrero is of royal blue with bright 
redstreamersand a vivid greentassel. 
The spool-heel shoesareof fine woven 
mesh with diagonal stripes of red kid 

This costume (far left) for lazy 
days in the sun has "dots" as well 
as "dash"! Red confetti ones 
spot the jersey panel of the wash- 
able white celanese rayon shark- 
skin frock; red harlequin ones, the 
natural straw sunshade (that ties 
curls in with a matching red 
kerchief); red patent ones, the 
cut-out sandals. The El Mirador 
Hotel, Palm Springs playground 
of the stars, is in the background 

An Engadine motif embroidered 
in dual shades of red, green and 
blue gives the jacket of this 
white flannel after-ski suit (left) 
a gay burst of color. The 
invisible zipper closing reaches 
to a trick upstanding collar. 
Shining nailheads stud the built- 
up soles of the patent sandals 

Though the Swissli coat (top) 
looks genuinely sporty, it is 
just the chic kind of wrap to 
throw over your most formal eve- 
ning gown at Sun Valley for a 
dash across the snow in sleigh or 
rumble seat! It has triple charm, 
for it boasts warmth, casualness 
and brilliance! The body is woven 
of red, white and blue braid; the 
sleeves are of cuddly white lamb 


Norway inspired this practical ski suit of 
slate blue with reversible jacket (far, 
left). Pale yellow knitted socks and 
matching two-finger mittens lend golden 
contrast. There is a cotton slipover under 
the jacket in natural color with the new 
Marsupial pouch at the neckline for carry- 
ing cigarettes, hankies or mad money 

Part of the fun of a day's exercise is 
to relax in the evening as beautifully 
as Miss Photoplay in this after-ski slack 
suit of black velvet (left). The lapels and 
pockets are embroidered in multicolor 
silks and little sequins that gaily shine 
out to challenge the sparkle of the 
studded platform soles on the sandals 

A perfect skating costume must be attrac- 
tive as well as functional! The identical 
black velvet outfits of Miss Photoplay 
and her little doll (below) come from 
Switzerland and are modeled after an 
old Swiss garb. Orange and white braid 
outlines the suit, silver buttons flash on 
the coat and embroidered boutonnieres 
of edelweiss spot the lapels. The perky 
fur hat and the jersey shirt repeat the 
accent of white. The brief skirt of the 
suit is so cleverly cut it forms ex- 
quisite arcs when whirled into motion 

t * 


These snow togs and play clothes were 
flashed on the screen in tinted glory by 
Vyvyan Donner inherTechnicolor Fashion 
Forecast produced by Truman Talley for 
20th Century-Fox. They were so gay, pic- 
turesque and practical, too, that I recap- 
tured their vision, knowing a study of their 
clever detail would be of interest to you. 
They are posed for these pages on Miss 
Georgia Carrol, chosen by us from Miss 
Donner's models to be "Miss Photoplay" 






V V 



Gwen Wakeling created this dress- 
maker suit of brown woolen for Arleen 
Whelan to wear in the 20th Century- 
Fox production, "Thanks for Every- 
thing." The little ruffles on the gath- 
ered pockets and the ascot are of 
honey-beige colored bengaline. The 
skirt has four gores with slight hem- 
line flare. Arleen tops her suit with 
an exquisite coat of Safari brown 
Alaska sealskin (above) with leg o'mut- 
ton sleeves and a perky upstand- 
ing collar. (This coat was selected 
from Willard George, Los Angeles.) 


Dolly Tree, M-G-M designer, makes a final check of the clothes 
she created for Rita Johnson to wear in "The Girl Downstairs" 

Advance Spring Forecast: color of 
primary interest; stripes impor- 
tant; silhouette varied; hats gay 


NOW that the New Year is swinging right 
into spring it's time to get in step and 
plan new clothes so that your wardrobe 
will be fresh and colorful when the first blades 
of grass peek through the snows! 

Hollywood stars have already heralded the 
coming of spring! Here and there a gay frock 
peeks beneath a dark coat, a cluster of posies 
masquerades as a hat, a fanciful shoe leads on. 
Perhaps you too, daring dull winter to remain, 
have succumbed to the lure of the first offerings 
of the coming season! 

These casual shopping ventures are fun as 
they not only give impetus to serious wardrobe 
planning, but also, and so importantly, arouse 
curiosity about the coming trends. 

Hollywood's many whispered rumors about 
colors, fabrics and styles were so exciting that 
I turned to M-G-M's designer, Dolly Tree (who 
creates particularly for Virginia Bruce and 
Myrna Loy), for a detailed early spring fore- 
cast for you. 

Attacking the matter of color as of primary 
interest and importance for spring, Miss Tree 
foresees a continued and more predominant use 
of grey in all of its tones — grey in combination 
with yellows, soft greens, citron, chartreuse, and 
soft blues. 

Grey woolens for suits and street dresses will 
have stripes in varying shades and Miss Tree 
says that stripes will be most important for 

Thin black and white stripes will be extremely 
smart for daytime: very bold stripes in all the 
spring flower colors in chiffon for evening, as 
well as very broad black and white stripes in 

Other colors that will vie for fashion import- 
ance include the range from yellow through the 
various soft shades of green into sea-green, 
green-blue and then soft blue. 

In fabrics, there will be a reaction to the 
smooth cloths for daytime. You will see a lot 
of soft sheer woolens, gabardine and men's suit- 
ing material. Net, tulle and heavy crepe are 
included among the fabrics for evening gowns, 
in addition to the striped chiffon and organza 
previously mentioned. 

The silhouette for daytime clothes will con- 
tinue to be varied. Pleats, which have faded 
through fall and winter, will swing again this 
spring. Front skirt fullness will not be as 
exaggerated and will be distributed more evenly. 
Necklines will be up to the collarbone and softly 
draped. The corseleted, high-low waistline will 
continue, but there will also be a lively trend 
toward bloused waistlines. Many sleeves will 
be full and wrist-length, caught tight into 
tailored cuffs. This will be a particularly inter- 

esting feature to note in blouses. Miss Tree fore- 
sees a revival of hand-embroidered and hand- 
tucked blouses of chiffon and sheer crepe — white 
or pastel. The outstanding evening silhouette 
will feature soft drapery. 

Untrimmed coats will prevail and coats, 
instead of being in contrast, will match the cos- 
tume. A strikingly new costume note will be 
found in the double-breasted, fitted coat with 
length halfway to the knee designed for wear 
over a pleated skirt. 

The basic costume for spring wear will be a 
suit — man-tailored or dressmaker. The jackets 
of the tailored group definitely will be longer, 
but length should, of course, depend on one's 
individual figure, just as the day of the set rule 
in skirt lengths has long since passed. 

Slim three-quarter length capes will be intro- 
duced for formal evening wear. They will be 
styled of the gown fabric and always lined with 
color contrast. In other words, ensembles for 
evening will be the thing. 

Spring hats will be as gay and colorful as the 
season itself. There will be many felts with 
flower trims — very few straws except in com- 
bination with felt or fabric. Velvet hats with 
trim of spring flowers will be very high style. 
The height of crowns will not be as exaggerated. 
Brims will return — they will be particularly 
dashing in line for their smartness will be re- 
vealed by line rather than by width. 

In closing. Miss Tree importantly stressed the 
coming shoe trends. 

Shoes will be more interesting than they have 
been in years as there will be such a wide varia- 
tion in their styling. Modified platform-sole 
shoes for daytime and evening will have wider 
appeal than ever as they make their appearance 
in spring's exquisite contrast color harmonies. 
You will find that these shoes will lend inspira- 
tion for the selection of many a costume. Sport 
shoes will also boast the raised sole-as a leading 

Miss Tree foresees the biggesfc season yet to 
come for the open-toe, open-counter and cut- 
out vamp shoe. Sandals will be more popular 
than ever and the pump gain new prominence. 

Many models will be styled of elastic leather, 
the medium which has already won its place in 
fashion because of the glove fit and comfort it 
assures. Patent will, as usual, be smart for wear 
with prints, as well as with the season's "greys." 
Doeskin, heretofore conceded to be a winter 
leather fashion, will be carried over into spring 
as well as summer mcdels. Jersey, both silk 
and wool, will claim a top place in the shoe 
fabric spotlight. 

At the close of our chat. Miss Tree gave me 
a peek at the clothes she created for Rita John- 
son to wear in M-G-M's 'The Girl Downstairs." 
I must tell you about one suit in particular, as 
it struck me as being a grand costume for wear 
right now. 

Adapted from an English guardsman's uni- 
form, it consisted of a double-breasted English 
officer's mess jacket of red woolen — with brass 
buttons and a little, high white collar — and a 
black woolen pleated skirt. 

In identical mood. Miss Tree completed the 
suit with a busby — a guardsman's hat — of black 
felt with black horsehair brush trim and a chin 

I also glanced through the costumes Miss Tree 
created for the ice ballet sequences of "The Ice 
Follies." Joan Crawford's new M-G-M film. 

This amazing group of costumes ranges from 
Highland kilts to modern waltz gowns and I 
wouldn't be a bit surprised if their several in- 
fluences were felt in modern clothes overnight. 

I left Miss Tree checking sketches and fabrics 
for Myrna Loy's wardrobe and okaying com- 
pleted costumes for Virginia Bruce to wear in 
"Song of the West." 

Now I must run on to do more fashion scout- 
ing, and let you get down to spring wardrobe 







The smart advance Photoplay Hollywood fashions 
shown on these two pages are available to you at 
many of the leading department stores throughout the 
U. S. right now. If you will write to the address given 
below, sending description or clipping of the hat or gar- 
ment, you will be advised by return mail where, in 
your community, the item or items may be purchased. 
These hats and garments come in all sizes and in all 
popular shades. Address your letter to— 

Jean Davidson, Fashion Secretary, 

Photoplay Magazine, 122 East 42nd St., New York, 

New York 


IHESE little casual frocks for winter's sunshine 
resorts will surely tempt you with their inviting 
price of "under $10.00" and, if winter cannot be 
your playtime, surely you'll want to purchase a 
couple of them anyway in readiness for first warm 
days. Betty Grable, appearing in Paramount's 
"Campus Confessions," poses in these charming 
frocks which are styled of "Spode Print" Re- 
sortalin (of Du Pont Rayon yarn). White belt, 
buttons and piping trim this popular two-piece 
model (above, left). Note the soft fullness of 
the skirt. (Sizes 12-20) Diagonal tucking gives 
smart detail to the blouse of the high-neck trock 
(center) which has puff sleeves, shantung collar 
and cuff edging, a patent be' J and novelty but- 
tons across the shoulders. (Sizes 1 2-20) The 
tailored shirtmaker frock with short sleeves 
(above, right) has a natural linen hemstitched 
collar, two breast pockets, a narrow self-fabric 
belt and natural wooden buttons from neck to 
hem. (Sizes 16-44) Betty's frock (left) also fea- 
tures diagonal tucks as dressmaker detail. Little 
puffed sleeves, a tailored collar and a cut-out 
patent belt give added style. (Sizes 12-20) 









**#.» /»! 


KEFRESHING as a breath of salt-sea air — this spanking 
new quartette of cruise and resort fashions by Roxford and 
Byron, who know their felts and straws as an admiral does 
his navy. "Shoreleave" (above) is a jaunty Byron sailor 
to be worn tilted well to starboard. Rough pineapple 
straw in natural, to be the smartest color of all this sea- 
son, banded with admiralty blue grosgrain. Modeled by 
Frances Robinson, who is currently appearing in Universale 
"The Last Warning." "Fore 'N Aft" (center) is a com- 
panion piece by Roxford with the new high-lo crown, raked 
fore 'n aft in proper nautical fashion. Of straw like your 
boy friend's summer topper, in the prevailing natural color 
to set off your cruise sunburn. Miss Robinson also wears 
this Roxford straw. "Gob Hat" (top), as shown on Con- 
stance Mooro, who is appearing in Universale "Buck 
Rogers," is an adorable felt Byron in horizon blue, with a 
surrealist sea gull in shocking pink and darker blue suede 
just about to take off from the brim. You can wear it two 
ways — down on one eyebrow or, if you're sporting bangs, 
far back on your curls. "Whitecap" (bottom) completes our 
nautical quartette. It's Roxford's version of the same 
sailor" influence, with a squared-off diminutive crown in 
the whitest white felt with a daring, two-color suede belt 
in blue and gold for feminine inconsistency. Lovely 
Constance Moore also poses in this stunning felt 




Maybe she can't work "add-ups" but, with the help 
of her mother (above), Juanita's a whiz at diaolgue 

SHE did nothing so commonplace as walk 
into the room. She made an entrance; 
hesitating just the right fraction of a sec- 
ond in the doorway, unconsciously (I hope) 
permitting her unusual beauty to register and 
then, hand extended, an arch smile parting her 
lips, she advanced and greeted us with, 

"Don't mind my teeth, please. I'm just at that 
in-between stage." 

Juanita Quigley, seven in years, seventeen in 
charm and seventy in intelligence, was being 

Only a few evenings before, a Hollywood pre- 
view audience had, by their constant laughter 
at her comical scenes and hearty applause at 
her more touching ones in the picture, "That 
Certain Age," proclaimed Juanita an actress of 
unusual merit and as such had recognized and 
accepted her as a definite and important part of 
motion pictures. 

It's a funny thing about Hollywood. It has 
completely ceased to regard child players as 
cute but necessary nuisances. Bitter lessons 
learned at troubled box offices have taught it 
better. Hollywood now knows it is not just 

"Butch" to her director, "The 
Pest" to her pals — meet Juanita 
Quigley, scene-stealer supreme 


the dimpled beauty of Shirley Temple, the un- 
usual singing ability of sixteen-year-old Deanna 
Durbin, the plump provocativeness of Jane 
Withers or fresh precocity of Mickey Rooney 
that lured in the customers when practically all 
else failed. Upon Hollywood has dawned a 
truth; ability and intelligence are not and can- 
not be measured in terms of years. Behind the 
dimples of Temple lives a quick, penetrating 
mind, behind the voice of Durbin lies that di- 
rectness of thought and unswerving sense of 
values that audiences sense, respect, admire and, 
more important, pay money because of it. 

So luckily, at this propitious moment in 
cinema history, in steps Quigley. An individual, 
understood and respected, not because of two 
inch long eyelashes and round dimpling face, 
but because of her individualized intelligence 
regardless of her shortage in years. And all 

this in the year of our Lord, nineteen hundred 
and thirty-nine. 

She seated herself on a sofa pillow on the 
floor, pulled her short red dres* over her round, 
plump, hairy legs and gazed first at me and then 
at her mother. Waiting for the conversation to 

It didn't. So she began it. 
"Naturally (this and the satisfying word 'per- 
sonally' are her favorites), I can't remember 
much about my first big picture. I was only 
three and a half." A shrug of the shoulders and 
a weary roll of the eyes shoved an undeserving 
three and a half years right back in its disgust- 
ing place. And let there be no further peeps 
from that quarter. 

"The name of the picture was 'Imitation of 
Life' with Claudette Colbert," she went on, "and 
I was her little girl. I remember everyone 
called me 'Quack Quack' because I had a duck 
called Quack Quack." 

"Show Miss Hamilton the duck," suggested 
her mother, who sat across the room in calm but 
puzzled silence. 

Juanita left the room with a slight mazurka 

"I can't understand her today," Mrs. Quigley 
remarked more to herself than to me, "she's so 
wound up. So talkative. She usually has little 
to say." 

We thanked our lucky star for having chosen 
this opportune moment for our visit. The time 
when the natural show-offness of a child is in 
full swing. 

She returned with the celluloid duck. "The 
prop man on 'That Certain Age' was the same 
prop man on 'Imitation of Life.' " she explained 
"and when he saw me he asked if I still remem- 
bered the duck. 

"Naturally," she went on, "I had to say 'Yes.' 
(The eyes took a swing to the right and came 
back bored and weary from the journey.) "And 
so he brought it to me. He'd saved it all that 
time. And now would you like to see my upper 
plate? I wore it in all my scenes in "That Cer- 
tain Age.' " (Continued on page 90) 





War strengthened a conviction Ron- 

ald Colman held from early child- 

hood and launched him on a career 

that was to change his whole life 


THERE is always to be found one true ex- 
planation of a man's personality, and it 
usually goes back to his childhood experi- 
ences. Ronald Colman— frequently called shy 
even today, consistently called "Hollywood's 
man of mystery" because he has refused to have 
his private life publicized — was a shy, quiet and 
unobtrusive little fellow who loved his privacy 
even at the age of six. Already he had learned 
that to avoid trouble it was safest to keep 
quietly to himself: for. being the fifth child in 
a family of six, he had possessed a father who 
believed that children should be seen and not 

Later, at an age when he should have been 
romancing, he was still "keeping quietly to 
himself." But then there was the matter of 
funds also; for by this time young Ronald held 
down a three-legged stool in the offices of the 
Britain Steamship Co., but at meagre pay. 

Then came the World War. Ronald enlisted 
the day that War broke out. He quit his job 
and joined the London Scottish Regiment. 

I enlisted immediately." Ronald says, "more 
away from the office than because of the 
fighting spirit, which I did not have." 

There was a month of training and then, in 
late September of 191 1. Ronald's regiment was 
sent across to France as a unit of The First 
Hundred Thousand. Kitchener's famed "Con- 
tempt ibles." Promptly upon its arrival in 
Prance, the regiment was broken up and Ron- 
ald found himself in the front line trenches. He 
saw action at the first battle of Ypres, then at 
He spent, in all. some six to eight 
in the front line It was, ho says, "a 
very bad. a very messy business." At Messines, 
during an advance, a shell struck: there was an 
explosion and "an inglorious casualty" — he 
stumbled and fractured his ankle. When he 

ble to leave the field hospital the <l 
ordered him back to Encland. where he was at- 
tached to the Highland Brigade for light duties. 
He went into Scotland where he did mostly 

In murmurous undertones and sometimes 
in headline overtones Hollywood publi- 
cized Ronald Colman, but few know the 
truth behind the legends the town built 

clerical work. After a year of this, the ankle 
still unhealed, the medical board discharged 
him altogether and, although he tried to get into 
other branches of the service, he was turned 

"The War," says Ronald, a little ruefully. 
"certainly taught me to value the quiet life, 
strengthened my conviction that to keep as far 
out of the range of vision as possible is to be 
as safe as possible. 

"I am not one of those 'veterans' who look 
back on the War with the 'happy comrade' feel- 
ing. There may have been gay times behind 
the lines — I'm sure there were — but I can't re- 
member them. 

"I remember a kid of seventeen who was to 
make his first advance one early dawn. He was 
frightfully keen about it, excited. The sun 
shone on his face as we advanced and it made 
him look as though he were smiling. Maybe he 

Ronnie, in 1916, as he looked when he was 
touring England with Denby's Pierrot Troupe 



Colman "took one quick gander and fled" when he saw him- 
self on the screen for the first time — in the role of a Jewish 
pugilist (top). How was he to know that the names of Ronald 
Colman and Vilma Banky (above, in "The Night of Love,") 
would make history as Hollywood's first great movie team? 

was. I've never been sure about it. We 
reached the rise of a hill and the whole of Flan- 
ders was spread out below us. Suddenly the 
blast went off and there came the order to he 
down, to he flat on our stomachs so that the 
enemy ammunition might whistle over us. In 
one minute we dropped: the kid never got up 
again. He was killed in that first second of his 
war experience. The smile was wiped off with 
his face. The futility of it remains with me as 
my memory of the War. 

'There is another memory, also distinct: we 
are a column advancing into action. We climb 

a hill singing. 'Are We Downhearted.' singing 
with the phony bravado which the hypnosis of 
war hysteria makes you feel is genuine bravery 
at the time. We reach the top of the hill still 
singing. And meet a wounded soldier coming 
down, retiring. The wounded soldier with his 
mutilated face, laughs at us and shout* 
now you're not downhearted but you bloody 
soon will be!" These words were as true as any 
I heard spoken at the Front. 

"I loathe war. I"m inclined to be bitter about 
the politics of munitions and real estate which 
are the reasons for war." 

DISCHARGED from the army, the next thing 
Ronald had to do was get a civilian job and, as 
he says, "get on with the business of living while 
the seventeen-year-old boys carried on the 
business of dying." 

He could have gone back to his stool in the 
offices of the Britain Steamship Company, but 
he felt that he could not face that dull routine 
again . . . "and still," he told me, "I did not 
know what I wanted to do. what I wanted to be. 
If I'd had a gift for writing that would have 
interested me. I had a strong leaning toward 
the medical profession, too. The war gave me 
that. But to study medicine or surgery was, 
for me, financially impossible. 

While I was stalling around during that 
troubled summer of 1916, I ran into an uncle 
of mine who was with the Foreign Office. I 
asked him if he could arrange an appointment 
for me with a consulate in the Orient. He said 
he'd put up my name. He'd let me know . . . 
and then I collided with the theater. I ran into 
some friends of Lena Ashwell's. Lena Ashwell 
was a sort of English prototype of Ethel Barry- 
more. Her friends, who were also acquain- 
tances of mine, told me that Miss Ashwell was 
putting on a sketch at the London Coliseum and 
wanted a young, darkish man for a small role. 
Remembering my work with the Bancroft Club, 
when I first came to London, they suggested 
that I dash over to see Miss Ashwell. I thought 
that with the dearth of young men in London at 
that time, young men both darkish and lightish, 
I might do. So I dashed along and got the job 
and had the thrill of playing at the London 
Coliseum and the thrill of earning six pounds 
a week. The playlet was The Maharanee of 
Arakan" by Rabindranath Tagore and I played 
the bit part of herald to the Princess. I wore 
black face, waved a flag, tooted a trumpet. 

"LENA ASHWELL, incredible as it seemed to 
me, prophesied that I could become a great actor. 
Nor did she pay me compliments alone. She 
was kind to me in a very practical way, such as 
inviting me to her very exclusive luncheon 
parties to which only the elect of the theater 
world were ever bid. She introduced me to 
Sir Gerald Du Maurier, Charles Wyndham and 
others and would always preface such intro- 
ductions by saying. Here is a boy who will do 
great things in the theater.' 

"It is thanks to Miss Ashwell and to the in- 
terest that Sir Gerald Du Maurier took in me 
that I got my first sizable job. a bit in a play 
with Gladys Cooper. The play was ""The Mis- 
leading Lady" and was a tremendous success. 
The reviews were excellent and my name was 
favorably mentioned in most of them. But even 
then I did not say to myself, 'I am an actor! 
This is my job.' I still felt a passionate pre- 
dilection for the theater. But I did decide to 
bide my time, to let Fate decide my future for 
me. . . . 

"And then occurred one of those coincidences 
which give to life its fictional quality. Sitting 
alone in my flat one evening, reading an en- 
couraging review of my performance in the 
play, word came that my uncle had obtained a 
promise of a position for me in an Oriental con- 
sulate. I held the review in one hand, my 
uncle's note in the other. What to do? I knew 
that I had to decide, then. No flashlight ex- 
ploded in my brain leaving there an illuminated 
answer to my problem. I remember that a mere 
drop of the hand, a reflex action, decided it for 
me. For automatically I dropped the note on 
my desk and went on reading the review. And 
my choice was made. It would be 'good copy' 
to say that I paced the floor, downing whiskies 
and sodas the while I wrestled at the cross- 
roads. But I didn't. I made suitable expres- 
sions of gratitude to my uncle for the trouble he 
had taken and that was that." 

So the young man. who didn't know that he 

wanted to be an actor, continued on the stage 

(Continued on page ~1) 


Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 

(Continued /rom page 46) 

f it is u we c..> t.. | 
The little Cinderella, who 
r asked ! I .ill. and who 

may not keep it long, will perha] 
something better Shu may find happi- 
« nli a arming who— 

and loyalty will help her to forget 
i tiK> often di 
name of "Heartbreak Town." 

You Have Our Blessing, Children 
WE'VE decided Lombard Ii the 

absolutely ideal girl for Clark Gable. 
why we think 
upletely unselfish. Carole forgot 
her likes and dislikes and took up, 
wholeheartedly, the sport best loved by 
Clark — shooting. First, by endless hours 
of practice, she became an expert at 
skeet shooting. 

t. she turned her attention to 
duck shooting. Gable's favorite sport, 
and became equally proficient. Even 
if it meant getting up at four o'clock of 
a cold, foggy morning to get to the 
blinds by daybreak, Carole was up at 
3: 30 and had the sandwiches prepared 
for the day. 

"She's a better man than any of the 
crowd who go," a friend told me, "and 
the last to say 'Let's rest.' 

"She goes out wading after her own 
ducks and once when Gable suffered an 
injured leg she went after his ducks, 
too. If necessary, she'll clean her own 
dudes like the rest of us and light her 
cigarettes. She asks and expects 
nothing in the way of favors. 

"Sometimes I look at her traipsing 
down the long dusty roads, the seat of 
her hunting trousers bagging behind, 
her hunting cap (the darndest I've ever 
seen) plopped squarely on her head and 
I think 'There goes Hollywood's glam- 
our queen. And there goes, by gum, 
the best sport with the stoutest heart 
of anyone in Hollyw-ood.' " 

Temple, Businesswoman 

OHE finished the scene and walked off 
the set unsmilingly, her little mouth de- 
cidedly drooping at the corners. 

The property men exchanged glances 
of surprise and Director Walter Lang 
turned to his assistant with an inquir- 
ing glance. It was the first time any- 
one could ever remember when Shirley 
Temple hadn't gone out of a scene with 
a smile. 

Following her into her trailer, Direc- 
tor Lang, really troubled, asked Shirley 
the reason for the blues. 

"Don't you like me, Shirley?" he 

"Oh yes, I do, Mr. Lang," she an- 
swered. (But the dimples failed to ap- 
pear ) Only by coaxing was the reason 
for Shirley's sadness revealed. 

It seemed all the other children were 
punching the set time clock but she. 

"They clear forgot about me," she 

It was explained that the new time 
clocks were to be punched only by ac- 
tors who made lea than $1000 ■ week, 
"You see. told, "it's the new 

way of keeping track of their time. And 
you make much more than $1000 a 
■ k." 

11, couldn't it be arranged so I 
could make $1000 a week, too," Shirley 
1. "and then I could punch a card 
like the other children?" 

They compromised and sent out for a 
time clock all Shirley's own. This she 
punches with great clee before and 
after every so 

"Keeping track," she explains. 



HE wore a gray felt tint that flopped 
over one eye. She stopped her car be- 
ffi Enema real-estate office out in 
the Valley. 

Her heavy stockings beneath the 
plain skirt were strikingly noticeable 
as she alighted from the car and en- 
tered the office. 

I am looking for the new estate of 
Mr. George Brent," she said in tones 
that bore marked traces of a Swedish 

The realtor stared hard, gave the di- 
rections and watched from the door- 
way as she drove away. 

"Well, I'll be doggoned," he muttered 
to himself. 

He'll be doggoned? Well, what i.boutus! 

Bigger and Better Bergen 

I HE song, "She's the Girlfriend of the 
Whirling Dervish," has been changed in 
Hollywood to "She's the Girlfriend of 
Edgar Bergen," for no sooner does Ed- 
gar get himself properly interested in 
a young lady than along comes some 
swain, usually Ken Murray, and steals 
her away from McCarthy's mentor. 

At a party recently, Edgar amazed 
the guests by escorting four beautiful 
young ladies — Anita Louise, Helen 
Woods, Andrea Leeds and Florence 

"Why, Edgar, how come?" cried the 

"Well, I'll tell you," Bergen ex- 
plained. "Rudy Vallee is in town and 
I thought maybe if I came with four, 
Rudy or Ken or some of the other fel- 
lows would have a heart and leave me 
at least one." 

Edgar went home with the hostess' 

Confidentially— About Gable: 

iT occurred to us while we patiently 
waited in Clark Gable's portable dress- 
ing room for Clark to finish a scene 
with Norma Shearer for "Idiot's De- 
light," that maybe you, too, would like 
to know something about that famous 
Gable dressing room which is wheeled 
from set to set. 

The walls, to begin with, are knotty 
pine. The dressing table, also knotty 
pine, is bare and simple, with a single 
mirror and two lights. There is no 
make-up kit anywhere in sight. Two 
ample-sized brass ash trays are fast- 
ened to the walls — one by the red 
leather divan and one by the red 
leather easy chair, the only two articles 
of furniture. 

A cigarette box is nailed down by the 
built-in dressing table. Two prints, 
the tally-ho type, are nailed to the 
walls. There is a clothes closet without 
a single garment in it. Only an empty 
box lies on its floor. 

The day we were there, two scripts of 
"Idiot's Delight," one opened to that 
day's scene, lay on the dressing table 
that contained no powder, comb, brush 
— nothing to make our hero beautiful. 

But on a small built-in shelf lay 
what seemed to us the oddest selection 
of books, for Gable, we could imagine. 
One, autographed by its author, Mau- 
rine Watkins. was labeled "Chicago"; 
another, "After the Storm," was also 
autographed by its author, Arlo D. Pol- 

But the third formed a climax that 
now stops us in traffic for a mo- 
ment's reflection. It was called "The 

Rosalind Ruscell with Frank Delano 
at the Troc in the town's most 
knock-the-eye-out dress, a corse- 
let and matching mad cap 

A rare shot of the Lewis Stones. 
The popular "Judge Hardy" has 
reached his eighteenth milestone 
as a screen star — a swell record 

Parnell Movement with a Sketch of 
Irish Parties from 1843." 

I mean, wouldn't you think he'd want 
to forget? Or doesn't he even know it's 

Portrait of a New Star 

ANNA MAY, recently risen to fame in 
RKO's "Gunga Din," is thirty years old 
and a spinster by choice. She has had 
many suitors in her day, but none that 
pleased her. 

Quiet and conservative, she dislikes 
frills and folderols and was known 
during the filming of "Gunga Din" to 
object so strenuously to wearing a 
jeweled headpiece that they cut it out 
of the script. She did consent, however, 
to don false eyelashes, since her own 
failed to photograph. 

Anna May is something of a moralist. 
If her manager stays out late, she scolds 
loudly until he returns. She is also 
a tobacco addict, with a special yen for 
cigarettes, which disappear in her pres- 
ence with disconcerting rapidity. 

She is inordinately lazy, insisting on 
riding on various "Gunga Din" excur- 
sions when she was perfectly able to 
walk. Still, her earnings in pictures are 
sufficient to support three friends. 

Like many women, she goes in for 
trick diets and will make a whole meal 
on carrots and perhaps a melon or two, 
including the rind. Like many women, 
she is terribly afraid of thunder and 
lightning and on the "Gunga Din" loca- 
tion at Lone Pine disrupted many a 
scene by her nervousness during bad 
weather. Also like many women, she 
harbors a strong affection for Cary 
Grant and used to follow him around 
at Lone Pine, much to his embarrass- 

There are a few rather queer things 
about Anna May, too. She likes to sleep 
standing up. She has ears something 
like Clark Gable's. And she eats a bale 
of hay a day. 

Still, these aren't too queer when you 
remember that, after all, Anna May is 
an elephant. 

Stuttering Stork 

AnDY DEVINE, about to be a proud 
papa for the second time, went through 
a strenuous time just recently trying 
to explain things to his four-year-old 
(Continued on page 70) 

With a home in the East now, Lily Pons was a "visiting fireman" when 
she went to Hollywood recently. At a party in her honor — Constance 
Collier, Basil Rathbone, Lily and her hostess, Gladys Swarthout 



Barbara Stanwyck says Want Romance? 


TO pass the Love Test, 
skin must be soft and 
smooth. The eyes of love 
look close— and linger — 
would note the tiniest flaw. 
Clever girls use the screen 
stars' soap— Lux Toilet Soap! 
This gentle white soap has 
ACTIVE lather that removes 
stale cosmetics, dust and 
dirt thoroughly. It's so 
foolish to risk the choked 
pores that may cause Cos- 
metic Skin, dullness, tiny 
blemishes, enlarged pores! 
Lux Toilet Soap leaves skin 
soft — smooth — appealing. 


Sue follows Barbara Stanwyck's advice. 

has skin that passes the H@M1 "FliTT 

9 out of 10 Screen 

Stars use Lux Toilet Soap 

EBRUARY, 1939 


Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 

nucd /rout pd 


ag our baby" 

hat rtork' 
in th. • i .'t Ca t a Hn a?" 

.t (if tin- i 
Why la itork in the i 

■ old 

to 1)1 I' eveninj " m ' 

: >. \ in<-> for dinner. 

"Oh hello, Goldilocks," Tad cried, us- 
ing hi.s pet nan ! > "We're go- 
Ing to have a new baby." Carole. "Who' 
ing to bring it?" 

"Oh. " ■Drugged Tad, "some old bird. 
Even daddy can't make up his mind 
about it." 

Money Speaks Louder Than Words 

IT is now a matter of public record that 
Father Flanagan received less than 
nothing, in comparison to the terrific 
profit M-G-M has made on the picture 
"Boys Town." So the good Father and 
Bishop Ryan journeyed back to Holly- 
wood in the hopes of getting greater 
compensation and proving to the world 
that his school is still badly in need. At 
M-G-M. Mr. Mayer gave a huge lunch- 
eon. Father Flanagan was praised to 
the sky. There was great to-do, with 
Father Flanagan still wondering just 
how all this was going to help his great 
cause. Finally, it was announced that 
M-G-M would donate a small building. 
All of which helped, but "Boys Town" 
on the screen is still ahead in the big 
money. Just befoejp he left Hollywood, 
Father Flanagan was talking to an 
M-G-M star. 

"Next time I come to Hollywood," 
said the priest, "I'm going to get myself 
an agent!" 

Foreign War Averted 

ALL is quiet on the dressing-room front, 
out M-G-M way. But there was a bit 
of excitement when Franciska Gaal 
heard that Garbo was back on the lot. 
In no uncertain terms, Franciska, who 
was occupying the Garbo suite, an- 
nounced that she would not give it up. 
She was assured that she would not 
have to. Garbo would be asked to take 
another suite and that was that. What 
they didn't tell Franciska was that she 
had been given the old Garbo suite. A 
gorgeously decorated suite in the new 
dressing-room building was all ready 
and waiting for Greta to move in. 

A Fog A Day 

OPECIAL effects experts of Hollywood 
have a right to the title of Miracle Men. 
Take, for instance, the case of Paul 
Widlicska, expert fog-maker at the 
Goldwyn Studios. During the filming 
of "The Cowboy and the Lady" a ship- 
board scene featuring heavy fog was 
called for. But, on that particular day, 
Merle Oberon was also featuring 
a heavy cold and was under doctor's 
orders to stay away from fogs of all 
as well as drafts. What to do? 
Wid' with a medicinal fog 

icvc that or not. He merely added 
a little eucalyptus oil to the fog solution 
— and, as a direct result. Merle came out 
of the scene minus the cold in her head. 

How Well Do You Know Your Hollywood? 

Ann Sheridan in "Always Leave Them Laughing" 

GRADE yourself five points for 
every one you guess right. If 
you get sixty or less, you don't 
keep up with Hollywood. If your score 
is eighty, you're doing quite well; and 
if you have a score of one hundred, you 
know as much as PHOTOPLAY. Check 
up on page 83. 

1. In "Song of the West" this actor 
will get a he-man build-up and have a 
fist fight with Victor McLaglen: 
Nelson Eddy Robert Taylor 
John Beal Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. 

2. Mary von Losch is the real name 
of this glamour girl: 

Nona Massey Marlene Dietrich 
Sigrid Gurie Annabella 

3. One of these actors is the captain 
of filmdom's cricket team: 

Warner Baxter Ronald Colman 
Basil Rathbone C. Aubrey Smith 

4. This actress' real name is Louise 

Mary Brian Barbara Stanwyck 

Louise Campbell Sally Eilers 

5. Before she got her break in pic- 
tures, she used to run an elevator in a 
Chicago department store: 

Jane Wyman Jean Arthur 
Dorothy Lamour Claire Trevor 

6. His performance in the play, "The 
Last Mile," gave this actor his chance 
in movies: 

Ralph Bellamy Spencer Tracy 
Leif Erikson Ray Milland 

7. The real name of this attractive 
actress is Ann La H iff: 

Maureen O'Sulli van Nancy Carroll 
Paulette Goddard Joan Blondell 

8. In Hollywood vernacular, "best 
boy" means: 

A temperamental outburst by 
a star 

An actor who wears a toupee 
The assistant to the head elec- 
trician on the set 
A dual role 

9. And "put a tail on the tiger" 

To plug the sound equipment 

to the camera 

To connect the telephone on 

the set 

To light the overhead lights 

Take your places on the set for 


10. Lucille Langhanke is the real 
name of this red-headed actress: 
Lucille Ball Andrea Leeds 
Rosalind Russell Mary Astor 

11. More stars in Hollywood come 
from this state than from any other state 
in the country. About eighty stars hail 

New York Texas 

Montana Nebraska 

12. This actor was doing household 
chores for his room and board when 
he was given a contract: 

Louis Hayward Tyrone Power 
Allan Jones Michael Whalen 

I 3. William Henry Pratt is this actor's 
real name: 

Boris Karloff Eduardo Ciannelli 

Douglas Fowley Hugh Herbert 

14. The first picture made in Cali- 
fornia was released as a one-reeler. The 
name of it was: 

"The Birth of a Nation" 

"The Count of Monte Cristo" 

"The Woman God Forgot" 

"Ben Hur" 

15. What actress is called "Spuds" 
by all her friends — because she loves 

Joan Crawford Bette Davis 
Claudette Colbert Priscilla Lane 

16. This star's right name is Virginia 

Alice Faye Marie Wilson 

Frances Dee Ginger Rogers 

17. Studio dramatic schools devote 
more time to instructing starlets on this 
important factor in correct movie drama 
technique than any other single point: 

Correct posture 

Display of emotion 

Proper breathing 

What to do with the hands 

18. John Blythe is his real name: 
Robert MontgomeryJohn Payne 
John Boles John Barrymore 

19. This actor was once a new York 

Dick Foron Phil Regan 

Fred MacMurray Preston Foster 

20. This handsome young actor's real 
name is La Verne Brown: 

John Trent Richard Greene 

Alan Marshall Joel McCrea 

Good Luck! 

OIDNEY TOLER is on a spot. No other 
film personality has been faced with 
quite the situation in which he now 
finds himself as the successor to the late 
Warner Oland's role of Charlie Chan. 
As the new Charlie, he must play a 
part already fixed in the minds of his 
audience, a tough job for any actor. 

He says, though, that he will not play 
Warner Oland, but Charlie Chan — that 
he will present, not Oland's, but his own 
conception of the famous hero of 20th 
Century-Fox's popular picture series. 

Toler is strictly American; was born 
in Warrensburg, Missouri. There was a 
Toler along with Captain John Smith 
when the latter founded Jamestown, 
Virginia, in 1607. 

Will his conception of the character 
of Charlie Chan be accepted by his 
countrymen and the rest of the world? 
Well, even he cannot answer that. He 
can only do his best. 


rRED ASTAIRE may be very partic- 
ular about publicizing his home life, his 
wife and family. But Fred hasn't lost 
his sense of humor or his perspective on 
himself. Sitting in his dressing room 
one lunch hour, Fred picked up the 
morning paper. There, in glaring head- 
lines, was the latest account of Laurel 
and Hardy splitting up and the studio's 
search for new partners. 

"I'm the closest thing they'll ever find 
to Stan Laurel," cracked Fred. "Wonder 
if Babe Hardy could use me." 

The Great McCarthy Feuds— And How! 


HARLIE MCCARTHY has turned his 
attention from his old feuding pal, W. 
C. Fields, to Jack Benny. The latest 
prank he's played on Jack has the whole 
town laughing. It happened this way: 

The Masquers Club in Hollywood 
telephoned Jack to leave town so they 
could give him a farewell party. 

Jack, overcome at the honor, packed 
his grip and announced he was leaving 
for Palm Springs. 

The party night arrived and Jack, ali 
dressed up and face glowing, arrived 
at the club. But, to his consternation, he 
found that the gloating Guest of Honor 
was none other than Charlie. The party 
had been given in honor of Charlie's 
becoming a member and not one Mas- 
quer seemed to have any knowledge of 
a farewell party for anyone named Jack 

You're right. It was Charlie on the 
phone and now Benny doesn't know 
whether to laugh at Charlie or give 
dirty looks in Edgar Bergen's direction. 

How to Stay Married 

l»OW that Jack Oakie and his wife, 
Venita Varden, have made up, Jack 
steps up with a little advice to hus- 

"If you diet, keep your sense of hu- 
mor; don't grouch and don't take it out 
on your family. 

"I realize now that while I was shed- 
ding those sixty-eight pounds I was a 
pretty cranky person to get along with. 
But no more. I'm going to try to keep 
my shape and my wife at the same 
time. I'll do my next dieting with a 
smile — or I won't diet." 



l/averfZme<?, Ifo&ZZTartd' wtf< 





Joy Teaches Girl — Nancy Hoguet gets a lesson in the fine art of hitting the Most Snapshotted Engaged Couple — Anne Clark Roosevelt faced the 

Dull's-eye. Her fresh young skin gets simple and intelligent care. "I cream camera squad cheerfully for 4 hours straight in exchange for 3 weeks' pri- 

ny skin every day with Pond's Cold Cream. That puts extra 'skin-vitamin' vacy before her wedding! She says: " 'Skin-vitamin' helps skin health. 

nto it, besides cleaning and softening it." I'm glad to have this plus element in such a good cream as Pond's."' 

f USE 

r ponds 

Big Moment— Camilla Morgan (nowMrs. Rem- 
sen Donald) finds it takes two to cut a cake. 
"I'll always use Pond's," she says. "When skin 
needs Vitamin A, it gets rough and dry. Pond's 
Cold Cream helps make up for this." 

245 Presents — Marjorie Fairchild sails for Bermuda honey- 
moon day after her wedding at St. Thomas's— one of the 
prettiest weddings of the season. She says: "Pond's was famous 
when I was still in my high chair. I use it for the reason they 
did then— to smooth skin beautifully for make-up." 

Vitamin A, the "skin-vitamin," is 
necessary to skin health. Skin that 
lacks this vitamin becomes rough 
and dry. But when "skin-vitamin" 
is restored, it helps make skin soft 

• Scientists found that this vita- 
min, applied to the skin, healed 
wounds and burns quicker. 

• Now this "skin-vitamin" is in 
every jar of Pond's Cold Cream! Use 
Pond's night and morning and before 
make-up. Same jars, labels, prices. 

* Statements concerning the effects of the "skin-vitamin" applied to the skin are hased upon 
medical literature and tests on the skin of animals folloxins; an incepted laboratory method. 

Tun* in on "THOSE WE LOVE, 

' Pond's Program, Mondays, 8:30 P. M., N.Y. Timo, N.o.C. 

IM. IM». Pood'" I 



Play Truth and Consequences With Jean Arthu 

(Continued from page 14) 

— but almost never tell one 
what what not to do. 

i doubt whether 
I'm the kind of a person who 
could follow the advice of ,iny- 
.vho is not iif.n and dear 
|0 : 

7. |Q) What do you consider your finest 

picture portrayal? 
(A t done it as yet. 

8. (Q) Do you have a bad temper? 

(A ' 1 m afraid I have, because I 
flare up quickly and say and 
do tfaingl 1 later regret. But, 
in self-defense. I must admit 
that I'm beginning to avoid 
situations in which I might lose 
my tempi 

9. (Q) What wai the last lie you told? 

The last lie I told was— plead- 
ing a previous engagement be- 
e I wanted to stay home 
and read rather than go to a 
party that would have been 
strenuous and enervating. 

10. (Q) Who are your two favorite living 

itar: — male and female? 
(A) Miss Arthur took the conse- 
quences. (Pose for us as all 
three characters of the famous 
painting, "The Spirit of '76.") 

11. (Q) When have you ever used glyc- 

erine in crying scenes? 
(A) I have never used glycerine. 

12. (Q) Why do you dislike to give inter- 

(A) I dislike giving interviews be- 
cause some interviewers ask 
stars the kind of questions they 
wouldn't put to their best 
friends. I don't feel that my 
ideas and opinions are impor- 
tant enough to be broadcast. 
Also, I find it difficult to open 
up easily with persons I don't 
know well. 

13. (Q) Do you feel that you lost popu- 

larity when you were away from 
the screen? 
(A) Perhaps, but I was very for- 
tunate to have the opportunity 
of returning to the screen in 
"You Can't Take It With You." 
I would rather make very few, 
but very good pictures which 
audiences will remember and 
me along with them, than be 
on the screen constantly in the 
kind of pictures that might re- 
sult in an even greater loss of 

14. (Q) Are you a fan of Shirley Temple? 
(A) I think everyone in the picture 

bush • fan of Shirley 

Temple — I've never worked 
with her, but I like to watch 
her pictui i ■ she seems 

to do with ease and noncha- 
lany of us strive 
very hard to achi' 

15. (Q) What characteristic of Hollywood 

and Hollywood people annoys you 
(A) Miss Arthur took the conse- 
quences. (Draw a picture of 
yourself at your favorite pas- 

'6 (0) Of what are you most afraid? 
(A) I am most afraid of intolerance, 

world chaos, lack of under- 
standing among human beings 
— and spiders. 

17. (Q) What is the smallest amount of 

money per week you have ever 
had to get along on? 
(A) The smallest amount of money 
I ever had to get along on 
(there were two of us, my 
mother and myself) was S18 a 
week — sometimes not every 

18. (Q) Have you ever heard any unflat- 

tering remarks about yourself when 
you have been sitting in the au- 
dience at one of your own pic- 
(A) At one preview a woman (not 
a lady) behind me kept saying 
"Oh. isn't she fresh — I just 
can't stand her!" By the time 
the picture was finally over I 
was convinced I was such a 
miserable thing I didn't have 
nerve enough to walk out of 
the theater. 

19. (0) If the United States should go to 

war, how would you try to influ- 
ence your husband on the subject 
of his enlisting? 
(A) If there were a war I would do 
everything in my power to 
keep my husband from going. 
I would even shoot off his big 
toe and if every woman in the 
whole world would do the 
same thing there wouldn't be 
any more wars. 

20. (0) Have you ever listened in on 

crossed wires, or eavesdropped in 
any way, and what is the most 
interesting thing you heard? 
(A) Yes, I've listened at the venti- 
lator in my apartment in New 
York to the couple fighting 
next door. 

21. (Q) Do you put your hair up in curlers 

or such at night? 
(A) Wish I could sleep on them — 
it would save a lot of money. 

22. (Q) Do you use a chin strap? 

(A) I should when I read, as I sit 
with my chin on my chest and 
curled up like a pretzel. After 
three tries I gave it up. 

23. (Q) Have you ever cheated in a 

game? When? 
(A) No. 

24. (Q) What is your opinion of your dis- 

(A) Miss Arthur took the conse- 
quences. (Pose for us in a 
football uniform.) 

25. (Q) Which of your pictures did you 

see the greatest number of times, 
and how many? 
(A) I see only the final preview of 
my pictures. 

26. (Q) Do you prefer men or women 

friends? Who are some of them? 
(A) I have no preference as to men 
or women friends — I have sev- 
eral of each and find them 
equally stimulating. I don't be- 
lieve in capitalizing on my 
friends for publicity purposes. 

27. (Q) If you had the choice of meeting 

Garbo or 'he Duchess of Windsor, 

whom would you prefer to meet 
and why? 

(A) I should prefer to meet Garbo 
because I not only consider her 
the greatest screen actress, but 
because everyone who has met 
her personally says her per- 
sonality is even more vital in 
private life than on the screen. 

28. (Q) What things do you consider that 

you do better than your husband? 
(A) Make a fire in the fireplace. 

29. (Q) When you read the papers which 

items and departments interest 
you most7 
(A) Movie and international news. 

30. (Q) What scene of dialogue in "You 

Can't Take It With You" was most 
difficult for you? 
(A) My part in "You Can't Take It 
With You" was all pretty dif- 
ficult because Alice Sycamore 
is purely ingenue and that is 
the hardest thing to play. 

31. (Q) Do you have a keen interest in 

reading articles about yourself? 
(A) It has the fascination of a hor- 
rible accident. 

32. (Q) What have you ever done, or 

said, to shock your friends and 
(A) Miss Arthur took the conse- 
quences. (Allow us to print a 
picture which looks the least 
like you, taken from your per- 
sonal collection of snap shots.) 

33. (Q) What is the item in your scrap- 

book which you prize most? 
(A) Reviews of the plays I did in 
New York — even the bad ones. 

34. (Q) Have you ever had any expe- 

rience to make you believe in 
mental telepathy? 
(A) I only know that thinking 
speaks louder than words. 

35. (Q) Do you ever get loud or noisy, 

and under what circumstances? 
(A) When I play the "Acting Out" 
game, or some other guessing 
games. I get excited sometimes 
and yell like mad. 

36. (Q) What conduct marks did you 

usually receive in school? 
(A) I was angelic. 

37. (Q) Of whom have you ever been 

(A) I am extremely -envious of peo- 
ple with curly hair. 

38. (Q) What's your favorite cuss word? 
(A) Aw, nuts! 

39. (Q) By what term of endearment do 

you usually address your husband? 
What is his for you? 
(A) Miss Arthur took the conse- 
quences. (Write a fan letter to 
Charlie McCarthy.) 

40. (Q) Were you ever jealous of another 

actress in any of your pictures? 
(A) In "You Can't Take It With 
You" I couldn't help envying 
Ann Miller's wonderful danc- 
ing ability. 

41. (Q) What efforts do you make to 

keep your figure? 
(A) None. 

42. (Q) What piece of Hollywod gossip 

have you heard recently which 
you passed on to your friends? 
(A) I don't like gossip, Hollywood 
or otherwise — either to hear it 
or to relay it. 

43. (Q) What is your sore spot? What 

one thing called to your atten- 
tion "gripes" you more than any- 
thing else? 
(A) It really "gripes" me to be ac- 
cused of something I have not 
done. But in gossip columns 
this is continually happening 
to the people in our profession. 
A great actor once said never 
to answer critics whether they 
were for or against one — but 
this doesn't prevent you from 
"dreaming up" a nice black 
eye or teeth knocked out! 

44. (Q) As a young girl, who were your 

movie crushes? 
(A) Mary Pickford and Mary Pick- 

45. (Q) Did you ever write a fan letter. 

and to whom? 
(A) Mary Pickford. 

46. (Q) What is the extravagance you 

can't resist? 
(A) Buying hats for my mother she 
never wears. 

47. (Q) In shopping do you believe that 

a salesperson rates you as an en- 
joyable customer? 
(A) I dislike shopping and never do 
it unless I have to. I usually 
know exactly what I want or 
never take long to make up my 
mind, so, if that's an asset in a 
customer, I have it. 

48. (0) Based on your early experience as 

a photographers' and artists' 
model, would you call it a safe, 
or a dangerous profession for a 
young girl? 
(A) It's just hard work, believe me. 

49. (Q) What unbecoming personal man- 

nerism have you had to fight to 
(A) Frowning without realizing it. 

50. (Q) What character have you played 

which you consider most nearly 
like yourself, and why? 
(A) I don't think I've ever played 
a character who was partic- 
ularly like myself. 

51. (Q) Of a'l the leading men you have 

worked with, with whom did you 
enjoy working least? 
(A) Miss Arthur took the conse- 
quences. (Outline three conse- 
quences for the next star that 
plays this game.) 

52. (0) Do you rinse out your own stock- 

ings? Shampoo your hair? 
(A) I have rinsed out plenty of 
stockings. — I can't get the soap 
out of my hair. 

53. (0) In what instances have you been 

a "sucker" for high-pressure sales- 
(A) I came home with five pounds 
of "Sing-ie Bird Seed" and I 
had no canaries. 

54. (0) What is your real name? 
(A) Mrs. Frank J. Ross, Jr. 



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Melvyn of the Movies 

(Continued from page IT) 


Canada, did not bring the mental chaos 
of the other changes and Melvyn !!• 

I g could mention casually to 
.schoolmates that his father was teach- 
ing in the Conservatory of Music. 

And there was being twelve, and a 
strange, puzzling, uncomfortable change 
within himself; and soon after, in the 
next year, there was falling in love for 
the first time — since falling in love was 
now possible and young Melvyn never 
the one to take tardy advantage of any 

I HE August, 1914 afternoon was bright 
with sun but the wooded lawn of the 
library had five or six lakes of shade 
on it, under the canopies of old trees. 
Gratefully sprawled beneath the largest 
of the sycamores, a half dozen adoles- 
cents waited for a cooler hour. They 
were at peace, their talk fragmentary. 

"I'm going to the matinee downtown 
this afternoon," one of the youngsters 
put in irrelevantly. "They're showing 
a Western. It's got Bill Hart in it." 

Melvyn stood up. "I'll go with you." 

The boy who had spoken shifted un- 
comfortably. "I — I'm taking a girl — a 
girl I met last week. Her father works 
in the shops. She's gonna meet me 
down at the corner by the mail-box." 
Suddenly the boy's expression changed. 
"Your mother won't let you know that 
kinda girl, Melvyn." 

In the other's grin young Master 
Hesselberg caught a shade of forbidden 
wisdom. He did not know what it 
meant, but with all his vital young 
heart he resented it. Here again were 
the implications of his sheltered life 
and his mother-inspired attitudes, as 
there had been so many implications 
in the grins of so many boys before. 
Melvyn was big for his age — long-boned 
and tall and lean muscled — and when 
he let the boy get up from the ground 
five minutes later that boy's nose was 
gory and one of his front teeth wobbled 
as he snuffled. 

That same afternoon Melvyn, his hair 
brushed and his bruises washed, walked 
slowly up to the corner with the mail- 
box and tipped his hat to the young, 
dark-haired lady who (with obvious 
impatience) waited there. 

'Jimmy's had a little accident," he 
told her. 

"Bad?" she questioned. "I mean, is 
he going to die?" 

Melvyn shoved his skinned right hand 
into a pocket. "He'll be all right, but 
he said would I take you to the show. 
I said sure." He waited. 

After a hesitant moment she said, 
"Well, let's go." 

Melvyn was suddenly shaky with re- 

They held hands during the picture, 
in the gloom of the little theater. Dur- 
ing the intermission, while reels were 
changed, the pianist banged out a new 
song, "Poor Butterfly"; and another, 
'Pretty Baby." 

Then, suddenly, the lights went on, 
the piano wavered to silence, the man- 
ager of the theater stepped out on the 
stage. He stood, his arms raised for at- 
tention. His voice was harsh with ex- 

"England has declared war on Ger- 
many!" he shouted. 

The words, like an electric impulse, 
fused the small audience into explosion. 
When the confusion had died down — 
the frantic singing of "God Save the 
King" and the jostling of some to leave 
the building as if the manager's cry had 
been "Fire!" Melvyn found the girl 
had gone. He never saw her again. 

1 le had had, that summer, a job as er- 

rand boy for a drug store, but the fol- 
lowing spring, when school was out, he 
looked around for a job that would get 
him away from home for a few months. 
His mind did not construct this desire 
in any analytical terms — he was just 
fed up. But the oppression that suffo- 
cated him could be translated in terms 
of his mother's increasing supervision 
of his personal life, of the Sunday 
Salons when he was instructed to make 
sandwiches and later serve them to the 
small group of intellectuals who were 
his parents' guests. 

Word came to him of a farmer who 
needed a hand for the season, and 
would pay room and board and ten 
dollars a month. Melvyn had it out 
with his family and took the job. It 
was his first open revolt. 

His boss was a hard-bitten old Cana- 
dian, with a lean and disillusioned an- 
cient for a wife (a bun of mouse-col- 
ored hair was coiled stingily on her 
lean neck) and a highly unattractive 
daughter whose virtue, though never 
so far the object of attack, was guarded 
zealously by word and shotgun. Here, 
in a draughty farmhouse eight miles 
from civilization, Melvyn had his first 
taste of hard living. He was worked 
pitilessly during the hot day, starved 
on a diet of boiled potatoes and fat salt 
pork, and presented with religious 
tracts in lieu of entertainment. 

In the second month, on an afternoon 
bursting with heat, he was sent to hoe 
some rows in a potato patch. Ex- 
hausted, he lay down for a moment to 
rest and fell asleep. The farmer dis- 
covered him, fired him on the spot, re- 
fused him the second installment of the 
ten dollars due him, and let him walk 
the eight miles to the railway. 

He made the long trek without stop- 
ping, his throat aching with swallowed 
tears, his face black with the dust his 
feet struck up. Despite what had hap- 
pened, he did not want to go home; 
there was only one consolation. The 
daughter, starved for love and in love 
with him, had been getting reckless. In 
the end, he might even have had to 
run away on his own initiative. 

DACK in Toronto, he faced again the 
life he knew, and winced at the sight 
of it. He was fifteen now, precociously 
tall, with a light stubble of beard which, 
to his delight, needed shaving. He 
looked at least eighteen. All about him 
the home-office-inspired patriotism of 
that year seethed furiously; as he 
walked down the streets recruiting of- 
ficers, with fanatic looks in their eyes, 
caught at his arm and enjoined him to 
enter the Cause. "A big guy like you," 
they said, "staying safely at home while 
the Kaiser raises hell Over There. . . ." 

Staying safely at home . . . the 
phrase caught in his mind, washed back 
and forth like a little soup in the bot- 
tom of a bowl, worked at last into an 
idea for escape. That winter, his ideas 
and attitudes still muddled, his emo- 
tions still curdled by adolescence, but 
with his obsession for freedom from 
family ties coloring them all, Melvyn 
went to a recruiting office, swore by 
what the world then held holy that he 
was eighteen, and joined the 48th High- 

He faced Edouard and Lena that 
night, white-faced. "A man has to do 
something about this thing," he told 
them passionately. "I've done it and 
it's too late to change it now." 

"That." murmured Professor Hessel- 
berg softly, "is what you think." 

The next morning Edouard had a lit- 
tle chat with certain officials, with the 



immediate result that Melvyn was 
quietly released from service, and fur- 
ther, that he was sent back to school 
with his allowance curtailed and his 
young mind more confused — and em- 
bittered — than ever. If before he had 
been even faintly uncertain about the 
motive of his rebellion, now that un- 
certainty was gone for all time; only 
now he would know better. He would 
not trust anyone again, ever. 

Thus, the following summer, he made 
no mention of his plans, but got a job 
with an iron foundry (engaged in mu- 
nitions manufacture) and held it for 
days before reporting his activities to 
his family. By this time — he was al- 
most sixteen now — he was achieving a 
more intellectual concept of his views, 
of his fight against the small traditions, 
the convenient conventions; wherefore 
he wore his grime and his overalls with 
certain pride, found a kind of pleasure- 
able release in sweating elbow to elbow 
with immigrants, in catching the same 
trolleys with them at the end of a day*s 

The Hesselbergs maintained a plain- 
tive silence, made no attempt to stop 

IT was that year that he met another 
girl. She is important solely because 
she implanted in his mind the seed of 
the stage as a possible future. He had 
seen her often before — third from the 
left, front row, at the burlesque which, 
in company with other hooky players 
of his class, he viewed each Friday 

Actually he met her for the first time 
on the aft deck of the boat going to 
Center Island. 

Rather, she met him. She came to 
stand beside him at the rail. Just be- 
low, the close-in wake was liquid 
churned quartz ■while a harvest moon 
painted the far surface a fantastic soft 

She was small, with a body of lan- 
guid movement, under-toned with ex- 
citement. Immediately he was enor- 
mously aware of her. 

"Hello." The voice belonged. For a 
time they stood in silence. 

"I'll see you on the Island?" he asked 

They were almost there. She nodded. 

There was a flamboyance, an intense 
meaning to that week end. . . . 

llN the last night they sat side -by- 
side on the sand, looking out at the 
calm lake. He had not told his age. 
There had been no need. But she had 
confided to him that she was seventeen; 
and further, that she was fascinated by 

He had not even thought of laugh- 
ing. Besides, she had an idea. "I could 
get you on as a juvenile with the 
troupe," she was saying now. "You 
want to get away — " (He had told her 
a little of himself, not too much) " — and 
we're leaving on tour next week. Other- 
Wise — I'll never see you again." 

He took her in his arms with that. 
Why not go? his mind said. Why not? 
But another section of his brain, a sec- 
tion rooted in his training, intruded 
with cold perception. 

This girl is not really the girl, not 
really your lije. 

"I've got to check at home," he told 
her at last. "There are things — " He 
held her closer. 

"You know I'm crazy about you. I'll 
let you know about everything tomor- 

But he didn't. 

And after that there was his father's 
sudden decision to move to Lincoln. 
Nebraska, to take a teaching post 
there. Now it was 1917, and a New 
Year's Day snow covered Rasputin's 
fresh grave and the Lincoln intellectu- 

als gave a succession of parties for the 
Hesselbergs and their son. March came, 
and the Tsar of all the Russians signed 
his abdication, and Melvyn fell in love 
again — with a shop girl this time. It 
was April, and Commodore Vanderbilt 
put his wife into one of the Lusitania's 
life boats before going back to his cigar 
in the splintered lounge, and Melvyn's 
fraternity politely refused to see him 
through formal initiation because of the 
shop girl, and the French retreated at 
Champagne, and the United States said, 
"Lafayette, move over." 

Twelve months went by, during which 
the fraternity did not after all go to 
hell, as Melvyn had suggested, but to 
France. And the Hesselbergs, firmly if 
casually, squeezed the shop girl out of 
Melvyn's time and, finally, out of his 

It was April, of 1918, and suddenly, 
as a result of all these things — as a re- 
sult of being seventeen; as a result of 
mental catharsis — the "light" came to 
Melvyn Hesselberg with so shattering a 
roar that even in this present year, it 
is still shaking him. 

The scattered portions of his person- 
ality came together and jelled. He was 
his own man, possessed of his own will, 
his own ego, his own inescapable des- 
tiny and none of these things, except 
in retrospect or in origin, had anything 
to do with Edouard and Lena Hessel- 
berg. These people were there still: 
they were his; they were even once 
more beloved; but the bonds were 

He joined the army the next day. He 
said to Edouard that night, "If you go 
to them and tell them I've lied about 
my age they'll courtmartial me and I'll 
get a turn in the penitentiary." And 
such was his only son's assurance, new- 
found, his certain conviction, that the 
Professor believed him. 

The story of Melvyn's eleven months 
in the United States A.E.F. is the story 
of any youngster's 1918 experience. He 
was not sent across. Melvyn Hessel- 
berg, first class private, was sent from 
Omaha to Fort Logan, in Colorado, 
where he learned ten good stories, and 
drilled and, when possible, got slightly 

He was transferred to Fort D. A. 
Russell, Wyoming, and there learned 
seventeen better stories, and drilled, 
and got even higher in a local dance 
hall. He did these things in company 
with his fellows, as did all the dough- 
boys. It was the same story. Except 
for one thing. . . . 

Toward the end of the summer his 
company was moved from the dusty 
heat swamp of Wyoming to Camp 
Lewis, Washington, where cathedral 
pines towered into a clear, cool sky and 
where somehow the ragged lost spirits 
of the men were softened a little. The 
entertainment here was in Tacoma, at 
the Soldiers and Sailors Club, which 
had a distinct respectability. Here came 
the daughters of fine Tacoma families, 
inspired by unselfish patriotism (and 
the chance at a good time) to lighten 
the lives of the soldier-boys in divers 

And on one September night to this 
place came Melvyn, newly a sergeant, 
seeking light romance. 

He found Anne Dawson (we shall call 
her that) and love — not as he had ever 
known it, not as he had ever believed 
it could be. 

From one love to another — from Shakes- 
peare to religious revivals and jrom 
family intolerance to the freer life that 
is Hollywood. Melvyn Douglas goes 
blithely. Continue the hitherto untold 
story of hisf ascinating and dangerouslife 
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Lovers Courageous 

(Continued from page 13) 

two people who found their ultimate 

happiness, not through fame and suc- 

bul through heartache and despair. 

It was back in Dubuque, Iowa, that 
Father Sheehy introduced Don to little 
Honore Prendergast, aged thirteen. 
They were at a school party. 

"Just puppy love," smiled the rev- 
erend Father to Don's mother, who 
came to him about it a short time later. 
"Just puppy love." 

But it was Father Sheehy who mar- 
ried the two of them in 1932. 

In the beginning, Don had his ups 
and downs in the theatrical world. 
Honore smiled through it all, and they 
had lots of fun anyway, even though 
there wasn't always a lot of money and 
it was hard to make toast that first year 
without burning ii. But there really 
wasn't anything to worry about. If she 
could just keep Don from playing long 
shots at the races everything would be 
all right. "I can manage," she said to 
herself stoutly. 

When Hollywood brought fame and 
fortune to the Ameches by way of 
screen and radio, Honore still managed. 
Donnie and Ronnie, now aged five and 
three respectively, came along and they 
had to be managed, too. Don was away 
all day at the studio and radio station, 
but he always got home early, in time 
for a romp with the little boys. "One 
day," he would tell the youngsters, "you 
two young fellows will have a little 
sister. She will make you behave your- 

"When, Daddy?" Donnie would ask. 
"When will we get a sister?" 

"One of these days," Don would an- 
swer. "Then you will have to watch 

And always there was Honore's smile 
to envelope the three of them like a 
golden light. Honore, always there, 
ready to kiss away bumps, tie up sore 
fingers, soothe away little boys' cares 
and heartaches, and a big boy's fatigue 
after a long tiring day. 

But the morning came when Honore 
herself was tired. Don went about 
curiously elated in his anxiety. During 
the day he talked to five-year-old Don- 
nie on the telephone, telling him to be 
sure to take good care of Mommie. 
And in the evening he talked more and 
more about how to take care of a baby 
sister in case one should come along. 
Sons Donnie and Ronnie listened 
gravely, impressed with the responsi- 
bility that they would one day have, 
if they were lucky. 

"What if we got a brother, Daddy?" 
Donnie would ask. "Do I have to like 
him? Or can I treat him as mean as 
I treated Ronnie?" 

"You better make up your mind to 
make the best of him," Don would an- 
swer. "Maybe some day we might be 
able to exchange him for a girl." And 
he would look over Ronnie's curly head 
and smile at Honore, and she would 
smile at him. They were very hap- 
py. .. . 

uNE day, not so many weeks later, Tom 
Nair, an attorney friend of mine, called 
on me in my hospital room. He had 
just returned from a successful busi- 
ness trip and was in the mood for talk- 
ing. Finally, he got around to discuss- 
ing the new streamlined trains. "By 
the way. Don Ameche was on the same 
train with me," he stated. "We spent 

a lot of time together. I made a bet 
with him that the stork would bring 
the Ameche family another boy." 

"He wanted a little girl, didn't he?" I 
asked, thinking of the man in the 

"Yes," said Tom, "but he's a fool 
about kids. I guess if it's a boy he will 
be willing to keep it." 

"Mrs. Ameche is here now," I told 

"So I read. I sent Don a note yester- 
day congratulating him in advance and 
hoping he loses." 

I felt queer. "Yesterday," I said, 
"you both lost. . . 

Tom said, "My God!" 
» « • 

Again I saw a man praying — praying 
this time, not for the little girl who was 
now only a rosebud dream, but for the 
little girl's mother, Honore, who lay so 
pale and still in a hospital bed, her hair 
parted in the middle and neatly braided 
in two pigtails. 

She looked like a little girl. She 
smiled bravely, and Don smiled too. 
How small and pale and courageous she 
looks, he said to himself. There was so 
much I should have done to help her. I 
didn't realize that Donnie and Ronnie 
were such a man-sized job. I wish she 
had her little girl. . . . 

How this is hurting him, thought 
Honore. He blames himself. He thinks 
I should have had more help, but it 
was my fault. I should have realized 
that Donnie and Ronnie were strenu- 
ous. I wish he had his little girl. 

Each saying to himself, "It was my 
fault." . . . 

Each loving the other just a little 
more. . . . 

Aloud, Don said gently to the frail 
figure on the bed, "Now see here, young 
lady, we are not to be selfish about this 
thing. We have Donnie and Ronnie, 
and there is always the future. . . ." 

UON came to Saint Vincent's every day. 
He sat beside Honore and held her hand 
and told her how things were at home 
and at the studio, how many cute things 
Donnie and Ronnie had said. And 
sometimes he just sat there, smiling at 
her. Once, when she must have been 
feeling a little blue, I heard him singing 
softly, "We're a couple of soldiers, my 
baby and me . . . Fighting shoulder to 
shoulder, whatever may be. . . ." 

One day, Honore said, "He is a kind 
person. We were always in love, but 
I don't believe I knew, until now, what 
love really is. And how very fortunate 
I am to be spending my life with a 
kind person." 

Don never did have much to say. 
Just "Want some help, Kid?" or some- 
thing like that, as he went by. 
* » • 

In Hollywood when a couple is mar- 
ried, the public thinks, "How long will 
it last?" Because they are all agreed 
that there is no real and true love in 
Hollywood. That love, as well as every- 
thing else, is just a part, played on the 
biggest stage in the world. But I won't 
believe as they do — not since I met Don 
and Honore Ameche, not since I saw 
Don sitting beside a white bed, with 
pain in his heart, singing to a girl whose 
heart ached, too, even though she 
We're a couple of soldiers my baby and 

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Romantic Recluse 

(Continued from page 67) 

and for two years things went very well 
with him. After "The Misleading Lady" 
he went into that charming and salu- 
brious play, "Damaged Goods," playing 
the part Richard Bennett played in the 
American production. "Damaged Goods" 
attracted considerable attention because 
of its subject matter which, for the first 
time, brought discussion of the social 
diseases out of the clinics and labora- 

"While I was in that play," Mr. Col- 
man says, amused, "I felt my first acute 
distaste for public recognition. It was 
embarrassing to go about socially and 
be pointed out as the 'hero' of 'Dam- 
aged Goods.' The show played to ca- 
pacity, however, and it took the air raids 
to darken the theater. 

"It was," Mr. Colman relates, with 
some relish, "my 'success' in 'Damaged 
Goods' which first drew me among the 
shades. For George Dewhurst, one of 
the pioneers of the British cinema, saw 
my performance and came to me with a 

"Said Mr. Dewhurst, 'I am going to 
make a two-reel comedy for the cinema 
and I want you for the star part. It 
will give you a fortnight's work and I'll 
do the right thing by you, I'll pay you 
a pound a day, not counting Sundays.' 

"The 'right thing' indeed! That was 
my foretaste of Hollywood's opulence. 
A pound a day! The man was Midas! 
But, so far as I know, the film was never 
released. If it had been and I had been 
able to see myself as others would have 
seen me. I am sure that I would have 
dashed back to my three-legged stool 
in a jiffy!" 

I OR the next three years Ronald skated 
along on pretty thin theatrical ice. He 
made occasional short films as "fillers- 
in" between his stage engagements. 

He first saw himself on the screen 
when he played the role of a Jewish 
pugilist in a picture titled "A Son of 
David." In the Big Moment he was 
supposed to knock out a burly ex-pro- 
fessional boxer "who could," remembers 
Mr. Colman, "have killed me and eaten 
me with the greatest of ease. I went to 
look at this picture, took one quick gan- 
der and fled. My head looked like a 
rotating ball on a body abnormally too 
small for it. I was revolted." 

Following that first brief film career 
in London young Mr. Colman appeared 
in a few more stage plays. It was while 
he was playing in "The Great Day" that 
he first met Thelma Raye, also in the 
cast, and very soon after they met they 
were married. Thelma Raye was the 
first girl Ronald had ever "gone with" 
at all steadily. They worked together in 
the theater. They formed the habit of 
having supper together every night after 
the show. They decided that this com- 
panionship, formed by the common link 
of the theater, was love. And so they 
were married, but the star of bright des- 
tiny did not hang over that marriage. 

IN 1919 the London stage suffered a ter- 
rific slump and the actors suffered ac- 
cordingly. Matters finally reached such 
low ebb that young Mr. Colman, jobless 
for too long, decided to go to America. 

In New York he found that employ- 
ment conditions for actors were not 
much better than they were in London. 

But the tide finally did a definite turn 
for Ronald when he got the chance to 
tour with Fay Bainter in "East Is West." 
That tour did many things for the 
young Englishman who was still being 
an actor "because I didn't know any- 
thing better to be." For one very im- 

portant thing, it got his bank account 
up and made it possible for him to re- 
furnish his wardrobe "so that I would 
not feel like hiding in a dark alley until 
nightfall." And secondly, in the course 
of that tour he met Ruth Chatterton. a 
meeting and a friendship which proved 
to be a real turning point in his life. 
For in the Fall of 1922, thanks to Ru'.h 
Chatterton, Henry Miller cast him in 
"La Tendresse," which had a long and 
successful run at the Empire Theater. 
Ruth Chatterton and Henry Miller were 
the stars. 

It was during the year that followed 
that Ronald first met Bill Powell and 
Richard Barthelmess. And there began 
the three-cornered friendship, the one- 
for-all-and-all-for-one friendship 
which has become a part of the Holly- 
wood tradition. John Robertson, the 
director, introduced the three young 
men in the lobby of a theater. And at 
once a rapport sprang up which was to 
last through the years. 

"We may not be three men with but 
a single thought," smiled Ronald, "but 
certainly we are three men who think 
very much alike, and who have much 
the same outlook on life, share the same 
values, have enough in common to make 
us friends for as long as we live." 

n HEN a tide turns in the affairs of men 
it turns exceedingly fast. It was so in 
Ronnie's case. For one afternoon, after 
a matinee of "La Tendresse," a card was 
sent to the young actor's dressing room. 
The card bore the name of Henry King, 
the director. He came backstage then 
and told Mr. Colman that he and Lillian 
Gish had watched his performance, that 
they were planning to film "The White 
Sister," that they had searched every- 
where for an actor who could "look 
Italian," who had "a touch of Valen- 
tino." Mr. King added, "I believe we 
have found him in you." 

Ronald Colman hesitated. He had 
long since abandoned any idea of pic- 

"Can I continue to be in this play if 
I do the picture?" asked Mr. Colman. 

"No," Henry King told him, "we must 
go to Rome." 

"I can't possibly do it, then. I wouldn't 
leave Henry Miller." 

"Mr. King explained," Ronald con- 
tinued, "that I would have a sixteen- 
weeks' guarantee at more salary per 
week than I had ever dreamt of for 
myself. I was tempted. But I repeated 
that it would be impossible for me to 
leave the play. If I did a thing like 
that, I said, I could not live comfortably 
with myself. 

"But Miss Gish and Mr. King were 
persuasive and Mr. Miller was very 
kind. And so, on the following day, I 
was given my first screen test and on 
the day after that I found myself on the 
Atlantic Ocean, in a steamer chair, talk- 
ing with Lillian Gish." 

"The White Sister" was, certainly, the 
goddess in the machine of Mr. Colman's 
picture career. For, upon the comple- 
tion of the picture — six months in the 
making— the company returned to New 
York, Ronald did a part in a picture 
with George Arliss and then went back 
to Italy again, with Lillian and Dorothy 
Gish, to make "Romola," Henry King 
again directing. And it was while they 
were in Italy finishing "Romola" that 
Sam Goldwyn cabled Mr. Colman that 
he had just seen "The White Sister" and 
would Mr. Colman consider coming to 
Hollywood as immediately as possible 
to play in "Tarnish" with May McAvoy 
and Marie Prevost? So the mountains 

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HERE'S HOW she does it. She 
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house. The youngsters love it. 
P. S. So do grown-ups I 


to the mummer. And 

Willi few mi^'n mes, Konald Colm;m 
Hollywood. Theie was noth- 
'•iiis far, to warn him of the lurid 
limelight with which Hollywood public- 
ity would, increasingly, baptize its. . I 

IT would take a telephone directory to 
ill of the picture! in which Ronald 

• .is. But it 
with the making of "The Dark Angel" 
that thru- came the next landmark in 
career. And a landmark, too, 
in the "career" of die cinema. For Vilma 
Banky and Ronald Colman, starring in 
ioldwyn production of still-blessed 
memory, were the precursors of the 
teaming idea which was later to become 
so popular in Hollywood. They so 
stormed the box office, the dark hand- 
some man and the blonde beautiful 
woman, that they continued to team in 
some six or eight pictures, including 
"The Winning of Barbara Worth" 
(which also served to introduce Gary 
Cooper to the screen), "The Night of 
Love," "The Magic Flame," "Two 

They were finally separated for the 
reason which still "divorces" most 
screen teamings . . . i.e. . . . the studio 
can make more money by splitting a 
successful team, putting a less well- 
known player with each member of the 
star- team, thus doubling their profits 
from the divided merchandise. 

"I made my first personal appearance 
with the opening of 'Bulldog Drum- 
mond' in San Francisco and in New 
York," Ronald told me. "It was the first 
time, excepting in Hollywood on occa- 
sions and when I made my first return 
trip to England after we did "The Res- 
cue,' that I had really met the picture 
fans face to face. 

"It was a gratifying experience, pro- 
fessionally. But I was terribly, horri- 
bly ill-at-ease personally. I had to 
stand before them, denuded of Drum- 
viond, as myself. I knew then that I 
would never be any good at that sort 
of thing. I have never tried "that sort 
of thing' again." 

PlCTURE followed picture in such 
rapid succession that the young man 
began to feel suffocated. "The theater 
is like Life," says Ronnie. "There is 
feast or famine, there is no work at all 
or there is nothing but work . . ." 

He played in "Raffles" with Kay Fran- 
cis, to whom he was promptly reported 
"engaged." This was Ronald's first ex- 
perience with "publicity" romances. He 
did not know then that a suggested ro- 
mance between a young man and a 
young woman starring together in a pic- 
ture helps to "sell" that picture. Ronald 
and his wife were separated by this 
time, but not yet divorced. But this 
slight obstacle did not prevent the Press 
from carrying "rumors" of his "engage- 
ment," first to Kay Francis, then to 
other girls with whom he worked in 
pictures, occasionally to young women 
he had not met at all. 

Superimposed upon his natural reti- 
, this sort of publicity created in 
him a sharp aversion to any "meddling,'' 
either factual or fictitious, with his pri- 
vate- life. 

And he discovered that he was not 
alone in his revulsion. Kay Francis de- 
I "revelations" about her private 
life and said so, trenchantly. 

Ronald had, by this time, taken a 
small house behind a high wall in an 
outpost of Hollywood. He began, then. 
his habit of entertaining his friends at 
home or going to small private parties 
in their homes. As he began to retreat 
further and further from the spotlight 
and the limelight where, most prolifi- 
cally, the "cultures" of publicity were 
i '1 and grew apace, the legends be- 

gan to grow around his name. In mur- 
murous undertones and sometimes in 
headlined ove rt on i Hollywood called 
Mr. Colman a "hermit," a "recluse," an 
"anti-social" mystery man with some- 
thing "very strange" about his habit of 

Ronald began to feel the need of get- 
ting away from it all. He went abroad 
He went to London to see his 
people, to Paris, to Rome. He found 
that no matter where he was he could 
not get away from Ronald Colman, the 
movie actor. He had become a trade- 
mark, his face was a poster. He boarded 
ship again and went around the world, 
stopping off at remote ports. This was 
a little better. But even in the most 
unlikely places he found that the long, 
prehensile finger of Hollywood publicity 
had preceded him and that the trade- 
mark called Ronald Colman was recog- 

"I felt," he tells you, "exactly as I 
used to feel as a boy when I stumbled 
into the drawing room at home to find 
that there was 'company' for tea, only 
now it was not so easy to stumble out 
again. For now the 'company' was 
everywhere. . . . 

"There are some demonstrations of 
public interest in a star which are grati- 
fying. If, at any time, for instance, a 
stranger speaks to me, whether flatter- 
ingly or critically, of some picture of 
mine, I am pleased and interested. But 
this is not the kind of attention we at- 
tract, we who are on the screen. The 
more restrained demonstrations of in- 
terest accorded celebrities in other 
walks of life are not for the likes of us! 
Certain incidents are representative: 
dancing at a club one evening I was 
poked in the ribs by a jovial fellow who 
circled about my partner and me, 
screaming into our ears, 'Say, I heard 
you talking to the lady just now and 
you talked just the same way to Fran- 
ces Dee in "If I Were King"; d'ya always 
talk to women the same way? Boyoh- 
boy, some line!' 

"On another occasion I was dining 
with a lady in an hotel restaurant when 
a bibulous stranger wove his way to our 
table and demanded that I dance with 
his wife. It was, he said, a 'command 
performance from the Little Woman.' 
When I explained, rather unnecessarily, 
one would think, that I was already en- 
gaged he became very belligerent, very, 
very noisy and wanted to know whether 
I thought I was 'too good' to dance with 
his wife! 

"I remember well the occasion of Bill 
Powell's first trip to England when I 
tried to show him my London. We 
started out for a day of sight-seeing. 
And in the hope that we might not be 
'sights' ourselves we took one of those 
deep-seated taxis into which you sink 
so low that only your eyebrows are vis- 
ible. We hadn't gone more than half a 
mile before we realized that we were 
being watched, eyes were peering down 
on us from the tops of busses, from the 
windows of office buildings and private 


Nina Wilcox Pufnam, distinguished 
American writer, brings back one of 
her most lovable characters, Marie 
La Tour, old-time star. A fascinating 
and funny novel of the believe-it-or- 
not-side of Hollywood today, we pre- 
dict this will be one of the most popular 
serials we have ever published 

Beginning in the MARCH issue 

homes. We visited one or two of the old 
landmarks and then gave it up. When 
we had to sign autographs while stand- 
ing on the stone in Westminster marked 
'O, rare Ben Jonson!' we knew we were 

"The glitter surrounding a screen star 
has robbed me of many of the pleasures 
and privileges I value, however peculiar 
my sense of values may seem to be. I 
am the sort of person who, perhaps un- 
fortunately, does not care for the re- 
wards so-called Fame brings. And 
though a gift may be rare and costly if 
you give it to a man who has no use for 
it. it is not precious to him. 

"The glitter called Fame has robbed 
me of friendships, both old and new. 
Some of my old friends who have not 
been so fortunate with this world's 
goods as I have been, naturally feel re- 
luctant about accepting hospitality they 
cannot return 'in kind.' On the other 
hand, I often meet men with whom I 
feel congenial and have reason to be- 
lieve the congeniality mutual. Nothing 
develops from these meetings. Because, 
though it is nice to hope that they may 
say to themselves, 'Colman seems a 
pretty good sort,' it is certain that they 
add, 'but — a movie star! I can't keep 
up with that!' I don't blame them. But 
such experiences do make me all the 
more anxious to behave myself as a 
private citizen when I am not at work. 

"k „ „ 

HND so, eventually, said Mr. Colman, 

"I decided to become a free-lance player, 
to sign no more contracts for more than 
one picture at a time. I made up my 
mind to do not more than one picture a 
year, two at the outside. This plan 
would give me more time to myself and 
less publicity. And this is what I do. I 
read scripts when they are submitted 
to me. If the script and the part inter- 
est me, and all other terms are agree- 
able, I make the picture. Otherwise, I 
reject it. 

"I did such pictures as 'Tale of Two 
Cities,' 'Under Two Flags,' 'Prisoner of 
Zenda,' 'If I Were King' because I 
wanted to do them. I may make another 
picture this year. I may not make an- 
other picture for five years. Perhaps I 
may never make another picture again. 
I like the feeling of 'perhaps never 
again.' It is an elastic phrase. It gives 
me a sense of time and space and free- 
dom. In the intervals between pictures 
of my own choosing I can travel or stay 
at home, seeing our friends, following, 
though amateurishly, in my father's 
horticultural footsteps. I have my home 
in Beverly Hills, which • is now our 
home. I have bought acreage on the 
Big Sur in the northern part of the 
state and some day we may build a 
permanent home there, a ranch. There 
is sufficient money for our needs which 
are on the modest side. 

"I do believe that my childhood and 
early youth, my war experiences, my 
early days in Brooklyn and New York, 
all of the pieces which have gone to 
make my particular pattern, have given 
me a taste for living quietly. I stil! feel, 
as I felt in my childhood, that the more 
obscure I make myself, the happier I 
will be. 

"I may sound ungrateful about a state 
of affairs which yields so many tangible 
rewards as does this business of being 
a star. In these difficult times, espe- 
cially, a man should thank God that 
people want to see him and are willing 
to pay money to see him. I should like 
to make it very clear that I am grateful 
for the opportunities Hollywood has 
given me to do my work. And very 
grateful, indeed, for the comfortable re- 
wards these opportunities bring. But if 
I could step off a sound stage and be- 
come invisible, I would be that much 
the happier." 



We Cover the Studios 

(Continued from par ■ 52) 

to the tune of more wasted thousands. 

This time, it serves Isa Miranda for 
her Hollywood debut. 

"Hotel Imperial" presents Isa as a 
clever aristocrat out to find the man 
who ruined her sister and avenge her 
death. In her manhunt, Isa travels with 
a wandering theatrical troupe, meets 
handsome Austrian officer Ray Milland 
and gets mixed up in the big Russo- 
Austrian-Galician battle of 1916. 

Ray Milland looks very smart in his 
Hapsburg uniform and Isa exciting in 
her veiled hat the day of our set visit. 

Next, we hurry over to what's cer- 
tainly the smartest movie idea of the 
month — "Cafe Society," which concerns 
the fads and foibles of the smart inter- 
national set. 

Paramount tried to get a number of 
the real Manhattan smarties for this, 
but the only one they have rounded up 
so far is Lucius Beebe. Meanwhile, 
Fred MacMurray, Madeleine Carroll 
and Shirley Ross are taking care of the 
story about a cafe society leader and a 
newspaper ship's reporter. Madeleine's 
the capricious playgirl: Fred's the news- 
hawk. He makes the mistake of telling 
her she's no longer news, so she mar- 
ries him to get her name on the front 
page again. 

CHECKING out of the movie studios 
and on to Radio Row, we find the NBC 
and Columbia radio temples quivering 
over a few private earthquakes. 

First of all, Hollywood's prestige on 
the air took it on the chin when Wil- 
liam Powell lost his job and Holly- 
wood Hotel folded up for keeps. 

Bill, however, will get another air 
job, if he wants it; but the rumor is he 
doesn't want another steady one. He's 
still in shaky health. W. C. Fields' de- 
parture from the Lucky Strike Hit 
Parade was his own idea, however. No- 
body can please Bill Fields with ma- 
terial; he has to write it and it makes 
him nervous. Bill is getting fat again 
and having fun — and with his bankroll 
he can do as he pleases. The third 
movie star to fall by the microphone 
wayside is Adolphe Menjou. They 
couldn't see his moustache and his im- 
peccable wardrobe over the air and the 
Menjou voice was just another voice to 
the millions. John Barrymore takes 
over the Texaco show, but Ned Sparks' 
buzz-saw voice remains — the only new 
solid click among the many ambitious 
air-minded movie stars. 

George Burns' batty half, Gracie 
Allen, is getting all the spare orchids 
along Radio Row. She came up with the 
new Gilbert and Sullivan type of musi- 
cal air comedies which are lifting the 
Burns-Allen program way up there. 

The titles are her idea, too. For in- 
stance: "Three Loves Has Gracie Allen 
— and Two to Go!" 

Carole Lombard is the biggest au- 
dience draw of the season. When she 
went on the Lux Theatre, all Holly- 
wood's cops were sent over in a hurry 
to handle the crowds. The most nerv- 
ous movie star of the month was Paul- 
ette Goddard on the Chase and San- 
born hour. Before she stepped up with 
Don Ameche to do "The Prisoner of 
Zenda." her first dramatic broadcast, 
Paulette stood in the wings and sipped 
champagne for courage. 

Charles Boyer's Woodbury Playhouse 
engagement made a great radio im- 
pression, but the memory of Boyer 
around NBC is not so glamourous. He 
came to rehearsals in a shiny old blue 
suit, wearing slippers and no tie; he 
spoke to no one. After each show he 
slipped in to hear the Jack Benny 

Good News has a new name for 
Frank Morgan — "Grandpop." Frank's 
golden hair has turned completely white 
since he has been on the show. The 
sponsors sent a film notable a case of 
coffee after he guestarred on "Good 
News" and the star sent back a wire. 
'Thanks, do you know a sponsor who 
makes doughnuts?" 

A NEW program, "Gateway in Holly- 
wood," will open another avenue to 
young screen hopefuls. Wrigley is spon- 
soring it with veteran producer Jesse 
Lasky and the lucky winnahs get an 
RKO contract! But producers mixed 
with radio spell only headaches to Irene 
Rich. The other day her air script 
burlesqued a movie producer and Za- 
nuck and several other movie tycoons 
called up fighting mad! 

Bob Hope seems on the air to stay; 
what's more, Mrs. Hope is auditioning 
for a radio career. Bob's extra money 
has gone toward buying a stained glass 
window for his church in North Holly- 
wood. A lot of Jack Benny's profits 
of the last few years are now sunk in 
a valuable piece of Hollywood property 
on Sunset near the NBC and CBS 
studios. Andy Devine's saving his spare 
change; reason — the new addition to the 
family. Lucille Ball is investing in a 
Hollywood flower shop. 

The best romance note of the month 
concerns Edgar Bergen. His newest girl 
friend is tall, attractive Helen Wood, 
radio actress with "These We Love." 
When he introduced her to Don Ameche 
at NBC, Don cracked, "You ought to 
get along swell with Charlie McCarthy 
— with a name like that!" None of the 
rest of Bergen's girl friends has, 


conducts various non-profit enterprises: The Macfadden-Deauville Hotel at Miami 
Beach, Florida, one of the most beautiful resorts on the Florida Beach, recreation 
of all kinds provided, although a rigid system of Bernarr Macfadden methods of 
health building can be secured. 

The Physical Culture Hotel, Dansville, New York, will also be open during the 
winter, with accommodations at greatly reduced prices, for health building and 

The Loomis Sanitarium at Liberty, New York, for the treatment of Tuberculosis 
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gether with the latest and most scientific medical procedures, can be secured 
here for the treatment in all stages of this dreaded disease. 

Castle Heights Military Academy at Lebanon, Tennessee, a man-building, fully 
accredited school preparatory for college, placed on the honor roll by designation 
of the War Department's governmental authorities, where character building is the 
most important part of education. 

The Bernarr Macfadden Foundation School for boys and girls from three to 
eleven, at Briarcliff Manor, New York. Complete information furnished upon request. 

NOVT when you smooth vour 
-kin for powder with Pond's 
Vanishing Cream, you give it extra 
-kin rare. Now Pond - contains \ i- 
tamin A. the "skin-vitamin* 1 nee- 
e--ar\ to -kin health. >kin that lacks 
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I -<■ Pond's ^ ani-liing ( Train be- 
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Same pri ... 

*f» Stair mrnt* ronrernina; the effect* of the "*Lin-titamin" applied to the akin are bated upon 
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Tuna in on "THOSf WE LOVI," Pend'i Program. Mondoyi 8: JO »J«„ N.Y. Timo, N.l.C. 



Hollywood Girls on Their Own 

• Lip* thai invite love nin-t 
be soft lips . . . nraetlv -niooth. blessedly 
free, from any roughneM or parching. 

So — choose your lip-tick wisely! Coty 
Sob-Deb Lipstick doc- double doty. It lends 
vour lip- \\arin. ardent color. Hut — it also 
helps to protect your lips from lipstick parch- 
ing. Y>ur lips, Coty-protected, look like -nit. 
n 'I in. 

I hi- Coty benefit is partly due to "Theo- 
broma." Eight drops of tlii- -oftening ingre- 
dient go into ever) "Sob-Deb" Lip-tick. In 

H mm fj-hioii-i-ltiiig -hade-, a Of 1 . 

, .N<ii— •* lir-s/<iKi" Rouge 
Because ii i- a. iu.iIN blended h> air. it has 
a new exquisite imoothneu, 

gln\> fag color-. Shade! match 
the lip-lick ...50?. 



i j 

- ight drop* of ~Th*obroma" /ro into ivery m SmUffA 1 tp 
• ink, Thnl't Jinu Coty guard* ugtiinit tip m tirk i-tr.htn* 

aivt 1'nnl .i way of saying it thai 
will in >t antagonize people. If sin 

decided t" when she feels like 

n. -he il always in danger of having her 

name bruited about carelessly, until 

day she sees her name in head- 

I HE bit player who wants to become 
a star some day has one of the tough- 
ex problems in all of Hollywood. 
Even if she offends some man who 
won't take "no" for an answer, the fea- 
tured player can always hope that she's 
n mile enough of an impression in Holly- 
wood so that her fans will write to the 
studio asking when she's going to ap- 
pear in another picture. The bit player, 
who may earn as little as $35 or $50 
a week, has two terrific problems. 

First, on her salary, how is she going 
to be able to dress well enough so that 
she'll look beautiful and attractive in 
her clothes? Secondly, if some im- 
portant director does make advances 
and she turns him down, what is to pre- 
vent him from seeing that she isn't 
called for another picture? She's so un- 
important, comparatively speaking, that 
the chances are if she doesn't make a 
picture for years no one will notice her 
absence. At the same time, if she makes 
a hit with the director, the cameramen 
and the lighting experts, they can di- 
rect her and photograph her in such a 
way that she'll stand out. Her problem 
is even worse than that of the extra, 
because most of the extras in Holly- 
wood realize that the chances of their 
ever getting anywhere are pretty slight, 
so they haven't as much to lose by say- 
ing "no." 

Bit players and other girls earning 
between $35 and $50 a week usually 
share an apartment in an apartment 
house with another girl, paying $50 to 
$75 a month for the apartment. Very 
often these apartments come complete- 
ly furnished. Most likely, the girls who 
pay $50 a month for rent live in an 
apartment house where there is no 

Living with another girl is a great 
convenience when you have to turn 
down a too- importunate suitor. If you 
live with another girl and the boy 
friend becomes a little too ardent, it is 
always possible to say, "Sh, you'll wake 
up So and So." Also, you have a grand 
excuse for saying good-by to him at 
the door if you wish to. You can't dis- 
turb your roommate who is sleeping, 
but you're terribly sorry about it. Some 
other night, perhaps. 

I HE Hollywood extra girl is a kind of 
law to herself. The chances of an extra's 
becoming a star today are almost in- 
finitesimal, so there is really no good 
reason why the Hollywood extra should 
have to worry about whether or not she 
•nakes a hit with someone influential. 
There are more than 10.000 extras in 
Hollywood earning from $7.50 to $35 a 
day. depending upon whether they are 
just plain extras, dress extras, or have 
lines to speak. The competition between 
tin in for even a single day's extra work 
is very keen. As extras have little to do 
with a picture except to be there and 
occasionally to speak a few lines, the 
method of selecting them from among 
all the girls registered at Central Cast- 
ing is rather haphazard and studio poli- 
tics, family and personal influence often 
enter into it. The extra finds it wise to 
keep on good terms with as many as- 
t directors, cameramen and elec- 
tricians as possible. One of her great- 
. i problems is to keep these men 

(Continued from page 20' 

friendly to her without granting favors 
that would compromise her. Generally 
she gravitates into having dates almost 
exclusively with men in pictures who 
have executive or advisory supervision 
of the extras. 

The extra generally lives either at 
the Studio Club, an organization run for 
girls connected with the motion-picture 
industry, where she can get a room and 
two meals a day for as little as $8 a 
week or a room with bath for $13 a 
week, or else lives in a $40 a month 
bungalow court apartment, sharing its 
two rooms with one or two other girls. 
Unable to afford even a secondhand car 
unless she is exceptionally successful, 
she travels to work by street car or bus. 
Usually the clothes she wears are so 
stunning you would imagine that no 
girl earning less than $200 a week could 
afford to buy them. 

I asked a Hollywood girl how the ex- 
tras in Hollywood manage to look so 
well-dressed, since it is an exceptional 
extra who averages as much as $50 a 
week during the course of the year. 

She shrugged her shoulders. "What 
do you think?" she said. 

Her implication is obvious. However, 
this isn't always true. Many of the ex- 
tras in Hollywood have an uncanny 
clothes sense and know how to pick up 
marvelous buys at sales. 

I HE girls who have technical positions 
in Hollywood as writers, designers, 
decorators, publicists and secretaries do 
not have to worry as much as the ex- 
tras or bit players about not getting 
ahead because they've said "no" to the 
big boss. While there are some men in 
Hollywood, just as there are men every- 
where in the world, who have made 
improper advances to their secretaries, 
they are the exceptions. The average 
secretary in Hollywood makes from $25 
to $50 a week; the average publicist 
from $50 up a week to a salary in four 
figures (if she ever becomes tops, 
which few women do, as the executive 
positions in this field are held mostly 
by men) ; the head of a research bureau 
at one of the studios earns about $100 a 
week. None of these girls has to mix 
sex with business unless she wishes to. 

They live on about the same scale as 
other girls in Hollywood who act in 
pictures, except that they don't spend 
quite as large a proportion of their 
earnings on clothes. However, the secre- 
tary in Hollywood spends more on 
clothes than the average girl in other 
towns. If she earns $50 a week, she 
may spend $25 for a dress, $10 for a 
hat. $10 for shoes, $10 for a bag. 

When she goes out in the evening, 
her dinner dates are often Dutch-treat, 
although she may be very attractive, 
and would, anywhere else but in Holly- 
wood, be the most popular girl in town. 

She has a variety of sex problems, 
ranging from the simple problem of 
what to do when her date wants to 
come inside her apartment and spend 
the night there to dramatic problems 
involving men who may drug her 
drinks, suggest assignations at their 
apartments, and eligible men whom she 
might be interested in marrying, ex- 
cept for the fact that they are definitely 
not the marrying kind. 

In Hollywood there is an amazingly 
large number of people on the fringe of 
the motion-picture industry. They are 
usually the hangers-on, the girls who 
originally came to Hollywood to get 
into the movies and gradually drifted 
into jobs as hostesses, professional es- 
corts, guides and companions. 

The escort business is a thriving 
Hollywood business. Very often men 
from the East who know no one on the 
Coast come to Hollywood and telephone 
an Escort Service to hire a feminine 
companion for the afternoon or evening. 

Obviously, a girl who accepts a posi- 
tion like this has a rather dubious 
status, and many of the men who take 
her out will feel that they are paying 
for more than just her companionship. 
If she doesn't want to accept familiari- 
ties, she must be very tactful, for the 
tips she receives depend on her keep- 
ing the good will of the men who es- 
cort her. 

ANOTHER job which the hangers-on 
who don't want to go home sometimes 
get is as "Sitter and Listener," a unique 
service which Hollywood's fertile 
imagination originated. In Hollywood 
there are a great many invalids who 
have come to California in order to 
enjoy a balmy climate and these in- 
valids often get lonely. Providing con- 
stant companionship for them is often 
a strain on their families. That's where 
the "Sitter and Listener" comes in. She 
is paid $3 an hour, of which she keeps 
$2 and gives her bureau $1. Her duties 
are to entertain the patient for a stated 
number of hours. 

Since the "Sitter" or "Listener" is 
much more apt to be a plain Jane than 
the girl who works for an escort serv- 
ice and since the invalids get a great 
deal more fun out of harping on their 
troubles than talking about love, her 
sex problem is much less acute than 
that of the girl who works for an escort 
bureau. In fact, her only sex problem 
may be that she has none! 

One thing which almost all visitors to 
Hollywood notice is the startling beauty 
of girls who do all sorts of work from 
manicuring nails to waiting on cus- 
tomers at drive-in hamburger stands. 
Often the answer is that these girls 
came from small towns, where they 
were told by all their friends that they 
"ought to be in pictures." Coming out to 
Hollywood, they found that they could 
not crash the union barriers at the Cen- 
tral Casting Office and finally took the 
first job that came along. 

Girls in this category have much the 
same problems that any girl earning 
$15 a week in any town would have. 
She cannot afford to buy herself pretty 
clothes; she lives in a $5 a week room, 
which she shares with another girl. Her 
greatest pleasure is lolling on one of the 
many near-by beaches. Like all the 
other girls in Hollywood, this type soon 
learns that the town is no happy hunt- 
ing ground for a girl in search of a 

Shopgirls in Hollywood face many of 
the same problems they do in other 
towns, except that it is harder for them 
to get married in Hollywood and in- 
finitely harder to stay married. 

There are many girls on their own in 
Hollywood — more than in any other 
town in the world. Many of them have 
come to Hollywood because they think 
it is the land of romance, the land 
where dreams come true. Often they 
have saved up their money for years 
in order to come to this town, where 
they believe the cream of the world's 
eligible men can be found. After they 
have been in Hollywood a few years, 
they usually start saving their money 
desperately to get away. 

There are many girls on their own 
in Hollywood — but not very many of 
them like it. Most of them would in- 
finitely rather be happily married. 



Photoplay's Own Beauty Shop 

(Continued from paje 8) 

nd add so much to the charm of her 
ew coiffure. 

A BRAND-NEW FACE— By this time, 
owever, you must have definitely de- 
ded whether or not you can wear your 
air up high on your head. Everyone, 
E course, tried it at first, but there's no 
enying that some of us can't get away 
ith it. Even if you're still wearing 
aur hair in a long bob, you've drawn 

back off your face anyhow to give 
3U the new barefaced look. But you've 
robably come to the same sad realiza- 
on that's hit all of us, whether hair 

up or down: that you have a great 
;al of face and it looks quite undressed 
ithout that flattering frame of hair 
•ound it. 

You've found you have a whole new 
ake-up problem. With your hair high 
i your head or drawn off your face, 
sur eyes are now more arresting than 
rer before. If your forehead is high 
• wide, your face is liable to look 
ightly top-heavy. 

Raising your eyebrows makes your 
res seem larger and more dramatic, 
it your brows must still look natural. 

thin penciled line has a tendency to 
ake your face look like an egg with 
atures drawn on it, so keep the brows 
;avy enough to add character and 
■ama to your face. Pull out the hairs 
iderneath — never touch those on top. 
Instead of using an eyebrow pencil, 
y brushing mascara lightly on the top 
irve of your brows and on the fine 
int hairs that grow just above this, 
i this way you can afford to leave 
ist a narrow line of your brows and 
ill out all the others. Be moderate 
i this, though, as in everything else, 
;cause if your brows are too high you 
ok like a perpetual question mark. 

prove again that beauty is a per- 
stual care and that you can't let 
>wn for even a day, be sure to keep 
)ur brows plucked and clean, because 
lere's nothing more unattractive than 
girl whose brows are growing in un- 
dily with stray little hairs under- 
2ath. Use one of the little magnifying 
lirrors so you don't miss a single hair, 
at on antiseptic so your lids won't 
nart and smooth cream into your lids 
i keep them soft and discourage dry- 
sss or tiny lines. 

Instead of using an eye shadow in the 
aytime, try patting a tiny bit of vase- 
tie or cream over your lids to give 
lem a luminous transparent look. It 
ill make you look young and dewy, 
k>. To keep that young look, apply 
Dur make-up with a very light, deb- 
ute hand. You have to blend your 
)uge carefully and be sure to carry it 
lit lightly almost to your ears. It's 
ital to be absent-minded when you're 
laking up your face. You're liable to 

rouge just the front part of your cheeks 
and completely forget the rest. 

Remember, too, that your neck has 
also joined the great open spaces. With 
your hair off the back of your neck, 
your nape will be nice and soft and 
white because it hasn't been exposed to 
the weather, but your throat is prob- 
ably somewhat darker. Obviously, 
something has to be done. Use soften- 
ing and bleaching creams on your 
throat and blend your powder down 
over your chin. Be sure that your en- 
tire neck and face are exactly the same 
color. Try a liquid powder foundation 
on your neck to give it a smooth even 
look. Make up the back of your neck 
with the same care that you do your 
face and throat. Just because you can't 
see it doesn't mean that no one else 

TRAVEL TIP— If you're planning to 
go away for the week end or on a cruise 
or just to visit your cousin in a near-by 
city, I've gathered some marvelous tips 
for your from Priscilla Lane on the set 
of "Yes, My Darling Daughter." Pris- 
cilla and Rosemary traveled for five 
years with Fred Waring's orchestra and 
learned all the tricks of the beauty- 
bound. Their perfume bottles never 
spill over and they don't find powder 
sprinkled all over their clothes when 
they unpack their bags. 

"I learned by sad experience never 
to carry full bottles of astringent or 
hand lotion during cold weather," 
laughed Priscilla, "because I did it 
once and all the liquids froze and ex- 
panded and broke the bottles. My 
clothes were a wreck. Now I pack only 
bottles that are half-full. 

"If you carry powder in adjustable 
shakers, you won't spill it. Use a com- 
plexion brush instead of a wash cloth 
because you can wipe it dry before re- 
packing it." 

For a short trip, Priscilla buys her 
cosmetics in the dime -store size instead 
of taking her regular large-size jars 
that take up so much room in her bag. 
She carries either collapsible tooth- 
brushes or cheap ones which can be 
thrown away. 

"If you stick to one brand and color 
of nail polish when traveling, then you 
can give yourself a quick patch job 
without any difficulty. And the easiest 
things in the world to forget are cotton, 
cleansing tissue and an antiseptic white 
lipstick for dry lips, so you'd better 
make a mental note to be sure and re- 
member them." 

Priscilla's last tip is to wear a ban- 
danna tied Mammy-fashion over your 
hair at night to protect it from dust 
and help preserve the wave while 
you're traveling. A hairbrush will help 
to keep your hair clean. 

So have fun on your trip! 

vlartha Raye and her husband of four months, Dave Rose. She prefers her hair- 
Jo half up, half down, which is the choice of many of the glamour gals now 

en f/j/t-f ■/'///■ /rf //f/ s /'Sj' . . . 

tv^evlon is mr favorite nail enamel because it wears so well and stays lustrous 
so long," says Elizabeth Gibbons, strikingly attractive photographic model. "It comes 

in shades that are definitely exclusive — just like the originals of famous French 
dressmakers! You can't find such colors anywhere else. Revlon goes on so easiK 
and never streaks. Its rich quality texture makes nails perfectly beautiful. Since I've 
been using Revlon, my nails have been on their best behavior!. ..Revlon is the only 
nail enamel in the world for me!" <" Miss Gibbons' sentiments are universal. More 
fine beauty salons throughout the world prefer Revlon Nail Enamel over any other 

nail polish because it stays on so beautifully between manicures and creates stead\- 
manicure customers. An outstanding example is Ivan, Fifth Avenue Hair St\li-t. l li" 

has dressed many of the crowned feminine heads of Europe. ♦ Society leaders and 
celebrities from the four corners of the earth come t<> [van's Ne» Ymk salon for expert 
beauty care. Here Revlon is used always, because it meets Ivan's exacting <|iialii\ 
and fashion standards as though made to his order! - ^ \ml -• Kc\l"ii i- fashion's 

favorite Nail Enamel the world over... You will prefer it. too. Like Miss Gibbons, 
you'll find it best. Be>t for looks, best for wear, best for the nails! Featured in lead- 
ing department stores and in quality beauty salons. O New! Revlon 's Jl I I I 
Rich vintage color, flattering as jewels to the nails. Three tones: IUBLTONB-1, light 

and delicate; jL'ELTONE-2, medium, more intense; Jl'ELTONE-3. dark and dmntling. 

tSftfil t_sf/ii ' At last: A normalizing nail treatment developed by 
Revlon to help keep nails strong, flexible, given with Laclol,a creamy emulsion, 
thermostatically heated . Ask your Beauty Salon for this Lactol treatment manicure. 

Sner/f'ji <_ylffr'/ r (' n&tne/ ^Frv^r/vr/^ // 


: EBRU ARY, 1939 


Love Finds a Dizzy Blonde 

■* tathorities appar- 
ent)) agree that ki->in{_'. 

en the lip-. a> a >i;:n of 

iff© lion, did not begin 

uniil after Cleopatra's 

time. She died in 30 B.G 

ami the custom teems to 

have been established 

well after her da] . 

< leopatra had one other misfortune, too. 

She used -kin lotions, hut <li<l not have 

the famous Skin Softener — Italian Balm, 

flei lotion- were mixed, undoubtedly, 

With "a little; of tlii- ami too mm li of that" 

— hut today, no guesswork i- permitted in 

making Italian Balm for milady's -kin. 

Here is a identifically made skin-softening 
beautj aid thai trill help to keep your skin 

-mooilnr ami -oiiir — fresher-feeling, more 
kissable and thrilling to tin- i h. 

In Italian Balm >oii get not only a skill 

protection against chapping ami >kin dry- 

Ion gel also the costliest ingredients 

used in am oi tin- largest selling lotion — 

jret tin- econonrj oi using Italian I!. :1m is a 

national by- Word. A drop is sufficient lor 

both hand — because Italian Balm is rich, full- 
bodied and i on entrated; not thin or wat* . . . 
You'll love it-> clean, fresh fragrance, too. 
i ii I I: I l . Send i oupon below. 

Italian Balm 

Made horn a Secret Formula — by on Exclunvt Proceu 


C wii'w \ S \i i - i ci\ir\M 

Ml I In..,. BWrW, lll.n.,1. 

n tried in 
It, In, PImm -mI in. VAltm lt..||!r 

I III I. .hi |»i-i|.,i I 




h i j-jj 1. 1 j* w ). LU t~*u OMaba i 

ryone who i~- at all interested imist 
nili.ii. by now. with the almost 

unbelievable record of Marie Wilson's 
sixteen-year-old, one-girl assault on 
Hollywood. The small legacy she used 
to take her out of Anaheim. California, 
and set her up in what sin Imped to be 

impressive opulence. The bin car, the 
mink coat — they wcie pari "I it. So 
the hilltop house. Only Nick 
Grinde wasn't. He was the only thing 
real Maybe that's why Marie fell in 
love with him. 

Because, after the girl-meets-older- 
man-next-door episode in the middle of 
the street, Marie set out deliberately to 
make the bachelor director like her. It 
didn't look like an easy job. 

For one thing, Nick was frightened by 
Marie's family. He felt, because of his 
age. they must regard him with a hostile 
eye for taking out their seventeen-year- 
old daughter. Marie's folks are fairly 
serious people, too, and Nick's natural 
wit fell on barren ground. They didn't 
understand each other. 

So, in spite of the fact that he was 
actually welcome, Nick steered away 
from the Wilsons'. 

Marie and Nick had their dates mostly 
in Nick's house, under the disapproving 
but effectual chaperonage of Ching, his 
Chinese manservant. Ching's resent- 
ment of what he considered a conniving 
young hussy's hold on his master's af- 
fections smoldered in his bosom until he 
bordered on violence and Nick had to 
let his trusted manservant go. 

They saw each other two or three 
times a week — Nick and Marie. After 
dinner, Marie would stroll across her 
yard and ring his doorbell, get glowered 
at soundly by Ching and walk in, to 
spend the evening with Nick, talking 
over her life and her dreams, listening 
for other hours to his interesting tales. 

She had other dates, of course. The 
young bloods of Hollywood flocked 
around. Jackie Coogan, the Stroud 
twins, Johnny Newell, Tommy Lee — a 
lot of them. They called her "Exotica" 
which pleased Marie. 

When Marie told Nick about this, he 
roared with laughter. Nick laughed at 
most everything Marie told him. 
He saw her for the ga-ga kid she was. 
And he was amused. The act was funny 
enough to him but the ambitions of 
Marie to become a great actress were 
even funnier. 

Consequently, the director — screen- 
ambitious girl setup of their relation- 
ship which might have proved awkward 
and fatal to their romance never in- 
truded. Because he considered the 
whole thing a young girl's glamorous 
hallucination from which she was bound 
to recover sooner or later, Nick never 
his studio connections to force a 
break for Marie. In all the years of 
their friendship, all he did was to call 
Ben Piazza once, at Marie's request, and 
identify her so Piazza would see her, 
and incidentally, so Nick hoped, give 
her some good advice. 

Ben Piazza gave Marie the good ad- 
He said she had a nice figure and 
■ -ting eyes, but he didn't see any 
talent written conspicuously in anything 
she did. She talked wrong, walked 
wrong, and her personality, he hinted, 
would be much more effective in Ana- 
heim than in Hollywood. 

But Richard Wallace, a director at 
Paramount, whom she managed (o see 
by herself, was a little more helpful. 
He told Marie she would have to give 

up the idea of getting in pictures right 
away. She'd h ive to study first, make 

i < 'onto. mi/ from pope Zl) 

I .,11 over Then, he allowed, she 
might make the grade. 

Marie went right to dramatic Coach 
S.uiilv Saunders and started the remod- 
eling It v.., a year and a half before 
she got even an extra job. Mrs. Saun- 

look her for nothing when she 
didn't have the money to pay. for which 
Marie will always be grateful. 

HER ambitions and her serious cam- 
paigning, however, she kept apart from 
Nick Grinde. She knew he wouldn't 
take her seriously. She shrank, with a 
woman's intuition, from mixing busi- 
ness with love, which is more than a lot 
of smart Hollywood beginners have had 
the sense to do. 

Marie concentrated on making Nick 
like to have her around. She tried to 
make him comfortable. She tried to be 
so nice and quiet. She filled his pipe, 
listened to his stories. If the radio was 
too loud or too low she'd run over and 
fix it. Only more often than not she'd 
trip over a lamp cord on the way. The 
studio people were right. Marie had no 
more poise than a June bug. And that 
complicated things. 

Because as Nick Grinde began to find 
in the little girl next door something 
that he missed when she wasn't around, 
he started to take her to the homes of 
his friends, and he had some very well- 
traveled, smooth-mannered friends who 
lived in exquisitely appointed homes. 
Marie always managed to do something 

Marie will probably never forget the 
evening Nick took her to a quiet cock- 
tail gathering at the house of one of his 
good friends. They sat before a coffee 
table bedecked with costly crystal 
glasses. "For Heaven's sake," she cried 
in mock terror, "don't let me touch 
them. I break everything I see." Where- 
upon she accidentally gave a ZaSu 
Pitts-like sweep of her arms and pro- 
ceeded to send the whole set crashing 
in little pieces on the floor! 

And when she wasn't doing the wrong 
things she was saying them. One of 
her typical blunders lost a friend of 
Nick's his job. The friend, an assistant 
director, was flashing around the studio 
pass of a major lot's executive head, 
kidding lightly about his own status as a 
big shot. After he had gone, Marie 
found the pass where he had dropped it 
on the floor. Without stopping to think, 
she telephoned the office of the studio 
head and asked if she should send it 
over, explaining the details. The exec- 
utive, outraged that someone should be 
flashing his pass, called the offender in 
and promptly sacked him. 

"I don't know why Nick ever put up 
with me,'' Marie wonders today, "unless 
he was just fascinated — trying to guess 
what I'd do next!" 

The answer, of course, is that Nick 
Grinde was in love with her. There was 
something about the wistful sweetness 
of Marie, doing the wrong things at the 
right time, believing in phony fairy 
tales and telling him about them that 
got Nick. Behind her ingenuous stare 
he saw the right stuff. 

As for Marie, her friendship with Nick 
developed into love after a few fever- 
ish dates on the side with youthful cleft 
chins and wavy heads with which 
Hollywood is well supplied. And so, 
after a year or two, when Nick saw 
thai Marie was actually in earnest about 
the acting business, he began to en- 
courage her. Marie talked over every 
tiny thing that happened to her at the 

studios: Nick gave her good advice. 

It was the Packard, though, that real- 
ly gave Marie the chance that was to 
lead, eventually, to Warners and her big 
chance on the screen. 

The Packard ran out of gas one day 
and Marie, wearying of looking helpless, 
Started to push it A newspaper writer 
saw her and helped. He liked her and 
introduced her to an influential studio 

Marie wrote the script for her own 
test — a comic skit of her own experi- 
ences trying to get a job in the movies. 
The test, made at Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer, brought nothing and was kicked 
around Hollywood for a year or so. 
One day, by mistake, Jack Warner and 
Hal Wallis got into the wrong projec- 
tion room. 

Somebody was running off Marie's 
test. Warner and Wallis stayed in the 
wrong room. 

When they left, Marie had a contract 
on the way. 

Marie Wilson's rise as a first-rank 
comedy star has had little effect on her 
romance with Nick Grinde, except to 
bring it closer to consummation. Al- 
though they were both at Warners for 
some time, both refused to mix busi- 
ness with pleasure and work on the 
same set. 

The one time they did, in "Public 
Wedding," a director took sick and Nick 
was put on the picture. 

Then an actress took sick during the 
picture and Marie was put in it. So 
there was no way out. 

IN spite of the success that seems as- 
sured Marie Wilson since "Boy Meets 
Girl," she is still giving no definite date 
for her marriage to Nick Grinde. Al- 
though she hopes to be married early 
this winter, there remain some family 

Also Marie is keeping her fingers 
crossed about her career. It has all 
happened so suddenly that she's wary 
of its permanence. That fatal finger on 
her left hand is still without an en- 
gagement ring. 

"Rings are so expensive," explains 

The official seal of a formal engage- 
ment would mean little indeed, how- 
ever, to Nick and Marie. She has de- 
pended on her mature boy friend long 
before this for advice on everything. 
He even bought her a new, and this 
time, modest little automobile, because, 
as he explained, he was tired of looking 
at the old Packard out in front. It was 
beginning to tear down property values. 

And when Marie took the new auto- 
mobile out and promptly got mixed up 
in one of the most serious traffic acci- 
dents in Hollywood, Nick took up the 
legal details of the mess, got her a new 
car out of it and generally acted like 
a dependable fiance should. Which 
included, of course, daily visits to the 
hospital where Marie lay for nine 
weeks with a very good chance of not 
coming out. 

The smashup had driven what the 
newspapers referred to as a "hair orna- 
ment" about an inch into her skull and 
uncomfortably close to the brain. Only 
it was no hair ornament, Marie con- 
fessed, but a screw from the car's top, 
or somewhere. 

"With a screw loose in my head," 
grins Marie, "how can you expect me j 
to be sane?" 

The point is, no one does — including 
Nick. That's why they're so happy. 



Close Up of the Groaner 

(Continued from page 23) 



This should put guest stars at ease on 
his programs, but a few of them have 
blown higher than a kite just thinking 
sf the contrast between Crosby and 

There is a belief that the day Crosby 
learns he is washed up in radio and pic- 
tures he will say. "Oh," and go home 
ind eat. 

IIS home life is a pleasant turmoil of 
lomesticity. Fresh from his crooning, 
le will be confronted at the door with a 
•eport of his four sons' wrongdoings. He 
nay spank one. put two to bed and for- 
jid the fourth to play "'Snow White"' 
■ecords on the phonograph. Sometimes, 
it the height of a feud, the boys must 
>e fed in separate rooms. There is al- 
vays noise and a visitor finds himself 
nvoluntarily ducking. 

Gary, the eldest son, is almost as 
leep-voiced as his father and considers 
limself a man. If permitted, he would 
Tile the brood with an iron hand — the 
ame iron hand that has left its mark on 
urniture and walls alike without par- 
iality. Gary has a girl but remains dis- 
:reetly silent about her unless giddy 
vith coca-cola. 

During the filming of "Sing, You Sin- 
lers" the boys were brought to visit 
heir father on location. They sat in a 
ow, respectful and quiet, watching 
(reparations for a scene. Then Bing 
tarted acting. Gary jumped to his feet 
md poked the twins. "Hey." he said 
lerisively, '"look at the old man!"' 

The shocked nurse elbowed Gary into 
i sitting position. "Don't talk like that,"' 
he admonished sharply. 

"Aw." said Gary, "he knows he's no 

lONSIDERATE to a fault sometimes, 
!he Groaner has drastic reversals. He 
tas let a production unit twiddle its 
humbs while he watched a horse race, 
le has refused to work unless an un- 
mployed property boy is hired. He 
irould not start a picture unless a cer- 
ain cameraman was used. The result 
k'as that the gratified individual lighted 
Jing so brilliantly in scenes that he 
tood out like a well-polished loving 

I have seen his patience tried. He is 
iroud of his ranch home near Del Mar 
rid the interior is spotless. There were 
everal of us warming ourselves over a 
>ottle after a pack trip into the moun- 
ains and finally one of the men aimed a 
lunting knife at the living room door. 
Ihe knife glanced and knocked a large 
hip from the painted surface. Then 
omebody else picked up the knife and 
hrew it at the door. That was the start 
f a contest. Bing sat watching, quietly. 
Ifter a while he went outside and I 


"'That's a lousy trick in there," I said. 

"They're just having fun," said Bing. 

'It's nice of you to take it this way," 
I said. '"If it were my house, I'd be 

"I am sore," said Bing. 

"Then why don't you do something?" 

"They're just having fun." 

We went inside. The door was a mess 
and they were still throwing. Bing 
picked up the knife and held it a mo- 
ment, and I was waiting. Then he threw 
the knife and it lodged in the door. 

"That's the way to do it,"' he said. 

Bing's Toluca Lake house is a spa- 
cious colonial affair, the second he has 
built in the district. Before the first 
house was built, he bought the available 
land surrounding it. Soon he sold both 
the land and the house and bought more 
property near by. If the profit from the 
land didn't pay for both houses, I'll eat 
one of his Hawaiian shirts. 

He is incorporated for radio, pic- 
tures, phonograph records, race track 
activities and several lesser ventures. 
He is on the board of directors of many 
strange things, including an eating club. 
The incorporation employs two of his 
brothers and his father. I once worked 
for the outfit as a radio writer, receiving 
my contract from one brother, my 
checks from the other and an auto- 
graphed picture of Bing from his pa. 

"Did you ever think Bing would 
amount to anything?" I asked the 

B," he said, '"he was all right." 

Bing's mother is solid American. She 
doesn't like to see Bing drink in a pic- 
ture but she lives in her own house with 
the father where she won't interfere 
with anything. She goes to Bing's race 
track with her husband, and they sit in 
Bing's box, studying their form sheets. 
They look at the tips from Bing's stable 
and usually discard them. Then they 
discuss the merits of all horses. Finally 
the mother says she will split a two- 
dollar bet with the father. He talks 
about horses some more and goes to 
make the bet. It is too late. 

Bing's wife. Dixie, picks her friends 
and sticks with them. Most of them are 
holdovers from the early days and Hol- 
lywood doesn't know them. That's all 
right with her, and it's all right with 
the friends. 

But what I started to say is that Bing 
as an actor didn't interest me until I 
realized that off the screen, basically, hs 
is the small-town boy who loves the full 
life and hates work and all its routine 
and will never- -let him live three hun- 
dred years — amount to a row of bad 

It is not my fault that even God 
sometimes is guilty of miscasting. 


Check your answers to the statements 
on page 70 with these correct ones: 

1. Nelson Eddy 

2. Marlene Dietrich 

3. C. Aubrey Smith 

4. Mary Brian 

5. Dorothy Lamour 

6. Spencer Tracy 

7. Nancy Carroll 


I I. 


The assistant to the 1 3. 

head electrician on 14. 
the set 

To plug the sound 1 5. 

equipment to the 16. 

camera 17. 

Mary Astor 18. 

Texas 19. 

Michael Whalen 20. 


Boris Karloff 
"The Count 
Monte Cristo" 
Bette Davis 
Ginger Rogers 
Proper breathing 
John Barrymore 
Phil Regan 
John Trent 

• 'Lurnberjcck. the February 
Blouse Hit, it made of 
bark, a >il» and spun rayon 
fabric in rough novelty weave, 
which lends irtetf beautifully to 
the joftfy tailored treatment. In 
White. Chartreuse. Rote. Bird 
Blue, and Fuschia. with con- 
-g chiffon handkerchief. 



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I NEVER thought I would be writing 
adverse criticism about Myrna Loy — 
but here goes! 

is ago I wondered when the movie 
moguls would recognize the ability of 
lovely, girlish, unaffected Myrna. When 
■he was finally starred I was amazed to 
tier cast as a sophisticated and 
rather blase type. In grooming her for 
the parts, the studio must have given 
her an icy veneer. 

In "Too Hot to Handle," Myrna wasn't 
even slightly lukewarm. In one se- 
quence, she says "how terrible" and 
shortly afterwards she says "how won- 
derful." There was absolutely no change 
of voice. Her voice rang with insin- 
cerity and artificiality. Her emotion 
seems to be limited to occasional gasps 
of "oh" plus a slightly startled look. I'm 
sorry Myrna has fallen off her pedestal. 
I don't think she is entirely at fault. The 
studio made a mould and poured Myrna 
in and it just didn't turn out the Myrna 
it should. 

Mrs. McBride Dabbs, 
Mayesville, South Carolina. 


FTER reading Margaret Lemworth's 
comments on Hedy Lamarr in the "Boos 
and Bouquets" section of January 
Photoplay. I, for one, am rushing to the 
aid of the beautiful and gifted Viennese. 
I can't understand how anyone who 
saw her performance in "Algiers" could 
possibly doubt that Miss Lamarr has 
definite talent in addition to being di- 

(Continued from page 4) 

vinely photogenic. 

The trouble with most of the people 
who make up American movie audi- 
ences is that when they see a truly 
great actress they can't appreciate her. 
They are so used to the overacting of 
Hollywood's favorite glamour girls that 
when a performance, notable for its re- 
straint and subtlety, hits the screen, it 
Isn't even recognized as acting. 

Hedy, the woman, is a "joy for ever"; 
Hedy, the actress, is superb. My only 
worry is that Hollywood may doom her 
to "clothes-horse" roles and not give 
her another chance to "shine" the way 
she did in "Algiers." But don't blame 
that on Hedy, please! 

Holly Birmingham, 
Rochester, New York. 


I HE "terrible-tempered Mr. Bang" has 
nothing on me when it comes to those 
pests who go to the movies for a gab 
fest. For a number of years I would 
move quietly to another seat when I 
was annoyed. At times I have called 
an usher and in my best Emily Post 
manner asked him to speak to those 
who were causing the disturbance. Oh, 
yes, I've been called an old crab and 
taken further insult for daring to re- 
port them. I've tried giving dirty looks, 
too, and while that may silence them 
for a few minutes, it seems it takes 
more than a dirty look to shut them up 

At last I've struck the perfect solu- 
tion. I cast decorum to the wind, 
turn around and give a loud, hissing 

SH-U-S-S-S-H. Ill admit I've caused 
a disturbance myself, but those who 
have been carrying on the conversation 
are usually so embarrassed they remain 
quiet for the balance of the perform- 

Francine Larki.v, 
Dallas, Texas. 


As LONG as you invite both criticism 
and praise, I will send a little of the 
former and be relieved to let off a little 
steam in this innocuous way. I re- 
cently saw "Too Hot to Handle" and 
came away dazed and full of questions 
I wanted answered. In the first place, 
I dislike those sophisticated and smart- 
alecky names which have nothing to do 
with the content of the picture. Then 
it was like a four or five-ringed circus 
with so much going on in so many quar- 
ters of the globe, and such a display of 
bombing in one hemisphere and native 
negro dances in the other, with so little 
continuity to link up the divergence, 
that it left the beholder, at least this 
one, worried. Besides it seemed to me 
terribly poor taste to make a laughing 
matter out of such stark tragedy as the 
bombing of the poor Chinese. The hero 
and heroine seemed to be falling out 
for unknown reasons and making up 
for equally dim ones, while the protag- 
onist and the antagonist seemed hating 
each other, and then going around in 
bosom-friend manner — the whole thing 
was a jumble. 

Mrs. Herbert Gardner, 
St. Petersburg, Florida. 

Close Ups and Long Shots 

Brothers, for whom he is executive pro- 
ducer . . . yet, in the last year, his pro- 
ductions of "Robin Hood," "Jezebel," 
"The Sisters," "Brother Rat" and "Four 
Daughters" have been so outstanding 
that the Warners, and particularly Jack 
Warner, who is his immediate boss, have 
been only too glad to let the spotlight 
of fame fall upon him. . . . 

Wallis looked around for an opening 
in the studios . . . any studio . . . but 
the only chance he saw that he could 
get was a berth in the publicity depart- 
ment at Warners . . . now for an unbe- 
lievable number of intelligent and 
talented men a studio publicity depart- 
ment has proved a dead-end street . . . 
but not for Wallis. . . . 

The bright particular genius of War- 
ner Brothers at that time was Darryl 
Zanuck and the crown prince of the 
family was Mervyn LeRoy, who was 
their chief director . . . Warners began 
putting out their series of 'hard-hitting, 
hard-biting pictures of the seamy side 
of American life . . . and they made 
millions . . . when Darryl Zanuck left 
to found his own organization Holly- 
wood speculated as to how the Warners 
would get along without him . . . they 
tfot along fine, thanks to their wisdom 
for appointing Wallis to fill the vacancy 
he had left. . . . 

In fact, they got along better than 
fine, for while Wallis started out by 
producing "Little Caesar," a thriller in 
the typical Warner manner, made after 
the Warner method with an inexpensive 

( Continued from page 10) 

cast in an impossibly short length of 
time, he also persuaded the Brothers 
that you could go, successfully, in an- 
other direction, too . . . for he it was 
who persuaded them to let him produce 
"The Story of Louis Pasteur" and later, 
"The Life of Emile Zola" and certainly 
"Robin Hood" and "Four Daughters" 
are an entirely new type of thing for 
Warners to be sponsoring . . . and mak- 
ing a fortune thereby. . . . 

IET, for all this, Wallis hasn't a single 
"longhaired" thought on the making of 
pictures ... he would be more an- 
noyed than anything else if you called 
him a genius and irritated by the label 
of inspiration being put upon his work 
. . . with him the making of the finest 
possible commercial movies is a business 
. . . and therefore being a businessman 
himself he has no intention of going in 
for any temperamental acts . . . besides 
he is too busy ... he sees every foot of 
film that is made each day at the War- 
ner studio ... he talks to actors . . . 
he interviews writers . . . out of it all 
he has a gorgeous time doing the job he 
loves best on earth. . . . 

Thus, in his quiet, calculating person, 
he represents the best of the brave new 
world of Hollywood that does promise 
us all a happy New Year . . . along 
with the people who sigh and say that 
the color has gone out of the town 
there are those who grumble that 
Hollywood isn't realistic enough . . . 

they look at the Rockies putting their 
snowy crowns up against the sapphire 
skies and complain that those moun- 
tains shut Hollywood off from the rest 
of the world. . . . 

Perhaps I should care that that is 
true . . . but I don't ... I am thankful 
it is true . . . for the holidays have just 
come and gone in Hollywood and the 
hills after their lovely fashion were 
green and scarlet with the blooming 
holly trees and every little way, as you 
drove along the twisting roads, you 
would see the tall white candles of the 
yucca flowers . . . and there were 
laughter and ambition and dreams 
everywhere . . . for these people of 
Hollywood are the everlasting children 
of life . . . the continuous young in 
heart . . . and there is still for us, 
through them, the way to dream. . . . 

And this, it seems to me, is very like 
it was once before when the Dark Ages 
shadowed the world and in many coun- 
tries men were afraid to speak but here 
and there, hidden in a monastery, or 
some dim castle, the light of learning 
was kept alive so that men might find 
their way back to happiness again . . . 
it seems to me this is Hollywood's mis- 
sion for 1939 and that it will fulfill it 
... let the cynical say if they like that 
this is merely being blinded by Stardust 
. . . who cares . . . what every lover of 
motion pictures knows is that it is bet- 
ter to be blinded by Stardust than it is 
to be blinded by tears. . . . 



Forbidden Great Loves of Hollywood 

(Continued from page 25) 

able to carry out their duty. No one 
would ever awaken her again. 

So, it seemed, she had been alone that 
night in the house on the hillside. 

"Wasn't she afraid?" the detective 

"She was never afraid," her father 
said, and for the first time since he had 
seen the crumpled figure among the 
scented pillows, he smiled. It may have 
been a smile of pride. "There was a bell 
connected with my room, if she ever 
wanted me. It was right by her bed. I 
kept a pistol and a shotgun out there. 
Shotgun mostly for them big rabbits 
that eat up my garden. Them jack rab- 
bits are an awful pest." 

They, examined the pistol. It was the 
wrong caliber to begin with and obvi- 
ously hadn't been fired in many a day. 
And a shotgun hadn't made that small, 
clean, fatal wound. 

The motorcycle cop on patrol hadn't 
seen anything. The neighbors had 
heard nothing. 

It came down to the empty safe, after 
they'd dug as far as they could into her 
life and loves. It was amazing how dis- 
creet she'd been. Discreet and secret. 
Half a dozen men were supposed to 
have had affairs with her, but there was 
nothing to prove they had been her 
lovers. She had not married. 

But there had been enough jewels in 
the empty safe to pay, nowadays, the 
price of murder. The insurance company 
had a list of them and they were insured 
for a hundred thousand dollars. 

"Just like a woman," the detective 
told the insurance investigators, "keep- 
ing all that stuff in a little cracker box 
like that. Like asking somebody to 
come up and help themselves. Any- 
body could open it, easier than a baby's 
bank. And, of course, there ain't a fin- 
gerprint on it." 

Between them, the police and the in- 
surance company did all the usual 
things. They brought in and checked 
up everybody connected with the jewel 
ring. They brought in every safe- 

They sweat the servants and the 
studio maid, who was the only one who 
knew the combination to the safe. 
Nothing came of any of it. 

Hollywood drew a long sigh of relief. 
It was a murder with a robbery motive. 
That might happen anywhere. It was 
no stain upon Hollywood's fair name. 

"Nothing to do now but wait for the 
jewels to show up," the insurance men 
said gloomily. "The old man didn't have 
any idea she had that much stuff. He 
looked dazed, he sure did. He'll be 
able to retire and go back to Omaha 
now. Well, we'll watch the European 

But they have never shown up any- 
where and I do not think they will. 

For they are hidden very deep in the 
earth of that Hollywood hillside, packed 
down with rocks, covered carefully 
with sand and dirt, and already the 
heavy matted grass and the wild flowers 
and the leaves of the scrub oaks have 
covered them for several seasons. 

I HE old man, her father, had been rest- 
less that night. He often was. He did 
not sleep well. But he had become 
philosophical about it. He waited out 
the night hours as he had waited out 
so much else in life— his wife, and his 
daughter and — other things. It was a 
very dark night, especially in the 
shadow of the hill. Not even the stars 
sent any pale blue light, though if you 
walked down to the edge of the road 
you could see a few of them. 

It was while he was walking down 
that he saw the little car parked on the 
driveway just inside the high adobe 
wall, deep in the shadow. A pretty lit- 
tle coupe of some color as dark as the 
night. Often enough the old man saw 
cars parked there at night in the 
shadow. He knew them well. The long 
black roadster, heavy and expensive. 
And the smaller sports car. He knew 
those cars well. But this small elegant 
car he did not know. 

The lights were still on in his daugh- 
ter's room, the windows were an orange 
glow above the little patio. You 
couldn't see those lights from the road. 
On his way back, he stood a minute 
looking up at them. He was surprised 
because it was after midnight and usu- 
ally she was in bed before that when 
she was working. She took very good 
care of herself, she did. 

Then he heard her laugh — that lit- 
tle excited laugh, so like her moth- 
er's. Often enough, as he walked his 
garden or climbed up the hillside on 
sleepless nights, he heard that little, 
wicked, excited laugh, and then mur- 
murs in the night and his heart froze 
because it was so like other nights, 
many years ago, nights he dared not 
let himself remember, when love and 
faith had been murdered in his breast. 

And then, to his amazement, he heard 
a woman's voice. 

There were seldom any women at his 
daughter's house. She was not popular 
with women, though she was too shrewd 
to let them get anything on her. 

Suddenly, he heard a voice raised — 
the woman's voice. It wasn't a scream. 
It wasn't even loud. But it had in it a 
terrible, passionate intensity. The very 
sound of it made the old man begin to 

All desperation seemed let loose in it. 
The dark night was suddenly alive with 

And then — his daughter laughed. Af- 
terwards, he was amazed beyond belief 
that even she had dared to laugh in the 
face of that desperate voice. Then, he 
was too numbed to be amazed — he 
heard only that wicked, excited, tri- 
umphant little laugh. 

The shot, not loud, cut it down, cut 
it in two, left it hanging in the air like 
an insane echo. 

H OW he got upstairs to the bedroom he 
never quite remembered. But the first 
picture of it as he opened the door was 
engraved on his mind forever. 

He saw his daughter, crumpled among 
the scented piljows, the red stain on 
her breast, with her dark head thrown 
back so that her throat made an arch, 
and her dark eyes open, staring, 
painted motionless on her still white 
face. He saw the glowing orange lights 
and the lush purple satin bed and the 
tall woman in blue with the gun in her 

The woman moved first. She turned 
and looked at him. A thrill of pure 
astonishment went through his brain. 
For the face of the woman didn't match 
the rest of the picture at all. It was a 
plain, middle-aged face, with wide- 
apart gray eyes and a big, gentle mouth 
that was gray-white now. The hair un- 
der the simple blue hat was seal brown 
and it was odd that he should notice it 
was long and rolled into a simple knot 
at her neck. He noticed, too, that her 
clothes were plain but very rich and 
well-cut and that she still wore gloves 
and that — why, she looked like a lady. 

"Is she dead?" the woman asked, 




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The old man's brain began to func- 
tion. And it w.o- very, very strange, 
the thoughts that came into it. 

lie looked at the still figure and the 
widening splash of crimson and he said, 
"Oh, j ■ dead." 

They stood, staring at each other. "I'm 
her father." he said. "Who are you?" 

She told him her name, still quietly. 
It was a VI I name. It was, he 

knew instantly, also the name of the 
man who owned the great, dark, heavy 
roadster that stood so many nights in 
the thick shadow inside the adobe wall. 
He was — but does it matter'.' Producer, 
executive, director — anyway, one of the 
powers that be, above all other powers 
in Hollywood. This woman, with the 
gun in her glovi d band, was his wife. 

"She laughed," the woman said. 

"I know," said the old man, and re- 
membered how her mother had laughed 
at him, when he was on his knees, beg- 
ging, pleading, broken. The same ex- 
cited little laugh when he had begged 
her not to leave him because in spite of 
all that he knew he couldn't seem to 
think of living without the touch of 
her. He had groveled there, and she 
had laughed and gone just the same, 
taking the child with her. He had never 
seen her again and then, years later, 
he'd seen his daughter on the screen. 
The name wasn't the same but no mis- 
taking her. The fates, perversely, had 
filled the same mold twice. And drawn 
by his own agony he had gone to her. 

Oh yes, he knew that laugh. 

I HE woman swayed, and he came out 
of his boiling memories and put an arm 
around her and made her sit down. 

"You should — telephone — a doctor — 
the police — " she said, and her throat 
was convulsed so that the words were 

"No," said the old man, slowly. "No. 
Not just yet. We — must think. Why 
did you come here?" 

"I came — I shouldn't have come," she 
said. "I thought maybe if I begged her, 
maybe if I told her about the chil- 
dren — " The words began to pour out, 
matching in flow the blood that still 
flooded from the dead woman they ig- 
nored now for a brief moment. "You 
see, it didn't matter when the children 
were little. But now — it's been going on 
for years. Oh, I knew. I always knew. 
But I thought in time — but then — you 
see, it was ruining him. Like a fever. 
He was different. Lately, he's been — 
you can't understand." 

Her father thought of that other little 
sports car and the slim, tall blond 
young man who drove it away at two 
and three in the morning. He under- 
stood quite well why of late the 
paunchy, overworked, gray-haired man 
who was this woman's husband had 
been almost mad. All this was as 
though he were living his own life over. 

"He wanted a divorce," the man's 
wife said and began to weep. 

"Don't do that," he said. He went 
over and touched her shoulder, and 
held his hand there until she was 
quieter. Then he turned out all but 
one of the lights. A shadow fell across 
the chaise longue. The old man grinned 
a little to think that, for once, she 
couldn't take any part in the scene. He 
hoped she was lingering near, trying to 
scream at them, trying to call them 
names — the way she did him sometimes 
when she got mad — and that she knew 
they couldn't hear her. She couldn't do 
bing about it any more. 

"How did you get in?" he said. 

"She let me in," the woman said. "I — 
asked her to see me." 

How she must have loved that, the 
old man thought. "Did anyone else 
know you were coming?" he said 

She shook her head. He took the gun 

aw. iv from her then, and put it in his 
pocket. He had made up his mind. 
There was a chance — a chance — and he 
>ing tn take it. 
Aloud he said, "It's all right. Keep 
perfectly still a minute." 

IT was as though, with his terrible 
memories, his youth had come back to 
him for a moment. 

He walked over and looked down at 
the dead woman. 

"It's funny," he said, to the woman 
who sat frozen in her chair, her gray 
eyes wide and terrible with her awak- 
: realization, "but it seems right she 
should die like that. How many people 
— people — in Hollywood know all about 
her and your husband? I always 
thought people in Hollywood knew 

"Nobody knew," the woman said bit- 
terly. "Nobody but me. You see — she 
wanted to marry him. And she didn't 
want a scandal. Because, you see, there 
were the children and his mother — he — 
my husband — he was afraid of his 
mother. So they sneaked — and lied — 
and met in Paris — and went away on 
his yacht sometimes and he came here. 
Oh, she was clever. She had him — " the 
woman made a gesture with her hand 
as though she were squeezing some- 
thing, "but she was playing for big 

"I'd never met her — and I came — I 
thought if I begged her and showed her 
what she was doing — " 

The old man smiled. "Not much use 
in that," he said. 

"I couldn't have done this," the woman 
said. "I had it in my heart — I wanted 
to kill her — but I couldn't — " 

"Where'd you get the gun?" he asked. 

"I carry it in my car," she said, "be- 
cause I drive alone at night — to the 
beach house — I — I thought I'd frighten 
her maybe — and then she laughed." 

"Well," said the old man, "we got to 
act quick and very quiet and you got to 
do just what I tell you." 

After all, there wasn't so much to do. 
The night was very dark. He got the 
little car out and headed down the can- 

Then he went back and made her 
fix her face and then he put her in it. 
"Can you drive home?" he said. "You 
got to. For them kids. If you can get 
home and nobody knows anything there 
— don't you worry." 

Funnybone tickler El Brendel, snapped 
at the Hotel Peabody in Memphis, 
shows what the true sportsman is 
carrying this year — a rifle, salt cellar, 
tame duck and a copy of Photoplay 

HE had the combination of the safe and 
he opened it and took out the jewels, 
wearing his old gardener's gloves all the 
time. Then he knocked over a couple 
of chairs and took a bottle of perfume 
and threw it at the wall, like maybe she 
had thrown it at the man opening the 
safe. He knew her fingerprints were on 
that bottle, all right. She was always 
perfuming herself. He didn't touch her, 
where she lay. It looked all right. He 
studied it carefully. Like maybe she'd 
fallen asleep on the chaise longue and 
waked up and saw the man opening the 
safe and started for the bell to call him 
and knocked over the chair and then 
grabbed up the perfume bottle and 
thrown it when the man backed her to- 
ward the chaise longue. Looked all 

He left the one light burning and then 
he went downstairs and outside and, 
with his tools, forced one of the low 
windows off the patio, taking care to 
stand on the flagstones so he wouldn't 
leave a footprint, and cut the screen 
and crawled through the window. 

The jewels and the gun were in his 
pocket. Tickled him he'd had the com- 
bination of that safe. That silly studio 
maid of hers had driven out one day to 
get something out of it. Being in a 
hurry and half-hysterical anyhow — she 
could get people like that — she'd been 
all thumbs and couldn't manage the 
thing at all. Women never could seem 
to open safes, anyhow. 

So she'd asked him to help her and 
he'd done it and remembered the num- 
bers, not knowing exactly why, only as 
he always remembered everything 
about her. How furious she would have 
been if she'd known. 

The still path up the hillside was 
familiar to him. He wore sneakers — the 
same ones he always wore. Lots of 
times at night he climbed that path to 
the very top, because from there you 
could see the ocean. On moonlight 
nights it was lovely. 

But tonight it was very dark, pitch- 
dark. The powers of darkness served 
him tonight, not her. He took along a 
sharp trowel. 

The hole was deep and careful and he 
was careful as he crawled under the 
brush and scrub oaks not to break any 
branches. He came up here often after 
yuccas. He planted the gun and the 
jewels deep and covered them carefully. 
Even if anybody knew where to look 
they'd hardly find them. There was lots 
of fine earth in which to hide things. 

When he got back he remembered to 
try the front door, to be sure it was 
locked. Then he went upstairs to bed, 
not turning on any lights and he was 
actually asleep when the maid woke 
him with her wild screams the next 

NO, the jewels haven't ever turned up. 
Probably, said the police, they'd been 
sent to Europe and reset. So the insur- 
ance company paid the money and the 
old man decided to stay on in the Span- 
ish house on the hillside. 

"I'd hate to leave my garden," he said, 
gently. "Besides, it was her home — and 
it's got memories for me." 

So Hollywood went its way and there 
was no scandal. And a family went its 
way, and if the woman was quieter and 
sometimes sad, and if she spent more 
and more of her time upon her knees in 
a dim corner of a church and in good 
works, nobody noticed it much. And 
the old man tended his garden and per- 
haps stood guard over that path up the 

The tree of forbidden love in Holly- 
wood bears many strange fruits — in- 
cluding murder. But don't look for the 
house in the canyon or the little old 
man, because that was just my way of 
telling the story. 



Like Ferdinand — He Loves to Smell Flowers 

ie way around just because somebody's 
able to come out and chase us off?" the 
iend will say. 

"No, it isn't that. But look— look at 
lat grass, every blade a living thing, 
ife growing there. Living. It's beauti- 

And over the face of the friend, as he 
trns to stare at Jimmy, will come that 
dltale expression that says, "If you 
eren't my friend, I'd slug you. So help 

Jimmy's is a sort of absent-minded- 
;ss that comes with very ripe old age 
id subsequent kidney trouble. Why he 
)t it, the absent-mindedness, this far in 
Ivance of old age is beyond the family's 

One day, in New York, while dining at 
is mother's home, his wife telephoned 
mmy from a corner drugstore to ask 
he had the house key with him. 
"Just a minute, I'll see." Jimmy said, 
ropping the receiver, he walked over 
i his coat that hung on a chair. "Yes, 
ire. I've got the key," he said quietly 
i himself — and went back to his dinner, 
he receiver hung while Mrs. Cagney 
ood in a phone booth and fumed. 

AGNEY'S life story reveals a strange 
ling about him. He neither fought, 
ormed nor schemed to get to the top. 
!e thinks he did, remember. But I 
Dubt, knowing the aesthetic quality of 
is being, if Jim has it in him to ham- 
ler his way along. No, instead, Cag- 
ey merely set his compass in the direc- 
on he thought he'd like best to travel 
rid then manfully stood his ground, 
■hile the hurricane of events poured 
ver him. He did not mold his life to 
attern. Life molded Jimmy. And, 
■hen it was all over and the strife and 
:orms and heartaches had beaten and 
'orn themselves away, Jimmy looked 
own and saw himself, surprisingly 
nough, on fairly solid ground. 
He started his theatrical career as a 
tiorus girl. He was notoriously un- 
retty. From any angle, in any pose, he 
'as only personable in a gruesome sort 
f way. It was noticeable from the last 
ow in the gallery. It was spoken of 
fith malice in several sections of the 
lied theater. In fact, the only thing 
lat saved him was the fact that Allen 
enkins, in another chorus, was even 
nprettier than he. Still is, for^ that 
latter. Jimmy wasn't crazy about im- 
iersonating a girl on the stage, but it 
aid twenty-five dollars a week, just 
en dollars a week more than he re- 
eived as a bundle wrapper in a de- 
lartment store. So he stuck it out and 
rent on from there to fair breaks and 
»ad breaks, and fair breaks and bad 
ireaks, like an interminable sea, rising 
rid swelling and beating him down only 
o rise and swell and beat again. 

He had two good chances at Broad- 
vay; first, in "Outside Looking In," a 
>lay with Charles Bickford; again in 
'Penny Arcade" with Joan Blondell. 
3oth times he showed to distinct ad- 
vantage, but he was not a seasonal sen- 
ation by any means. He hadn't yet 
;urned to that sneering, clammy- 
learted hoodlum of "Public Enemy" 
hat made Jimmy Cagney theatrical his- 

Cagney is a man misplaced in life, 
professionally, and he knows it. He is 
neither unhappy nor whimpery about 
it; for, fortunately, acting pays well 
enough to permit him occasional 
glimpses of the life he really loves. 

He is a beauty lover right through to 
the soul of him. A farmer who loves 
the earth. He is even more than that. 

(Continued from page 28) 

He is an aesthete. He sees beauty in a 
tree. A flower. A day. A gesture. A 
blade of grass. Music. The sky at sea. 
A pretty girl. A moth. 

Say what you will, our Mr. Cagney 
has a great deal in common with an- 
other one of our friends, one Ferdinand 
the Bull. Time and again the compari- 
son in the life circumstances of these 
two characters of extreme aesthetic 
tastes has come to my mind. Here are 
two souls who, through accidents, were 
thrust, and I think you can call it 
thrusting, into an arena of combat. 
Ferdinand, to face a frenzied matador 
on a field of Spanish gore; Cagney, to 
face a frenzied cop on long rows of 
Hollywood celluloid. 

The very circumstances behind the 
projection of Ferdy and Jimmy into 
fields foreign to their tastes are strik- 
ingly similar. Our male bovine, for in- 
stance, had the indelicacy to sit on an 
indignant bumblebee, who, in sheer 
self-defense, struck Ferdy squarely in 
the rump, sending him leaping and gal- 
loping into the arms of waiting com- 
batants, who imagined, by these goings- 
on, that Ferdy was only something this 
side of terrific. 

Jimmy, while also not attending 
strictly to business, was hit by a the- 
atrical bug that sent him galloping off 
into the arms of Warner Brothers, who 
also had ideas concerning the caperings 
of the reflexed Mr. Cagney. 

There were times when Jimmy tried 
to get away from it all and, figuratively 
of course, go back and sit under a tree 
and smell the flowers. He tried it, fig- 
uratively again, in several pictures for 
Grand National and only recently in 
"Boy Meets Girl." He's convinced now, 
after the success of "Angels With Dirty 
Faces," that he must stay in there and 
fight — or be fought by an indignant 

I HERE is a universal belief, one gath- 
ers, that Jimmy is a product of the 
Ghetto or the broiling turmoil of New 
York's east side. He isn't. His home, in 
Yorkville, was that part of the city 
proper inhabited by poor and hard- 
working Americans as well as Germans, 
Jews, Italians removed from the 
mother-country by one generation. 

The Cagneys, fatherless even before 
the baby sister was born, and almost 
penniless, functioned as a unit. They 
had to. United they could and did sur- 
vive. The boys, all four of them, hus- 
tled after school but daytimes they 
went to school and high school and uni- 
versities. They became doctors and 
business men and Phi Beta Kappa key 
holders — all because the mind of one 
Irish woman was obsessed with the idea 
of education. They grew up with it in 
their hearts and minds and souls: they 
never dreamed of disobeying. But it 
wasn't until after high school and fur- 
ther education removed them from that 
particular environment that these Cag- 
neys discovered the world did not talk 
with a Yorkville inflection. And. quick 
as a flash to catch on, they changed 
their mode of speaking. 

The sentimentality of the Cagneys 
among themselves was often commented 
on. When they left their mother at the 
door to run down to the corner grocery, 
they kissed her tenderly, kissing her 
again when they returned. Grown boys 
at that. Their happiness at being held 
together by this woman found expres- 
sion in this manner. And still does. But 
then, they're naturally a sentimental 
lot. the whole kit and kaboodle of them. 
At twelve, Jimmy experienced his 

first real suffering. He was homesick, 
while at home, for the green of the 
countryside he'd discovered for the first 
time when on a two weeks' vacation at 
a boys' camp. He'd tramp the crowded 
sidewalks with his soul full of ache. 
He'd found the thing he loved — nature, 
beauty. And he could not bear to be 
away from it. In fact, the first money 
he ever saved in his life went for a 
crudely constructed, crack-polluted 
shack on a wooded hillside in New Jer- 
sey. He'd go out there between jobs 
or over week ends and just sit, gorging 
himself on the woodland beauty, while 
the mosquitoes gorged on Jimmy. 

Now, circumstances have permitted 
him to buy a bigger shack on a farm 
(this time with no cracks) on the Island 
of Martha's Vineyard, off the coast of 
Massachusetts. Here he spends every 
spare moment between pictures. The 
way he fits into the life there is touching 
and amazing. To see him there among 
the old inhabitants — fishermen mostly 
— is really to know James Cagney, Pub- 
lic Enemy Number One of the screen. 

He'll drive down the wooded road and 
meet up with a neighbor. "Hi, Jim," the 
neighbor will nod quietly and solemnly, 
and Jim, in the same tones and same 
expression, will nod back, "Hi, Lem." 

Many of these people haven't the 
vaguest idea Jimmy's the cinema star of 
Hollywood. And those who do aren't 
impressed. He'll gather with them down 
at the nding, and, for hours on end, 
discuss the business of boats and fish- 
ing and farming and life and, as the 
talk flows along, one will know that 
Jimmy Cagney has come home at last, 
and at last found — peace. 

He painted his barn red so the blue 
blossoms of a prize tree would show up 
to greater and more artistic advantage. 
And when the hurricane hit his be- 
loved island last Autumn, it was right 
to that tree that Jimmy flew with an- 
chors to keep it from being snapped 
with the gale that bent it double. 

IES, this Cagney's a funny guy all 
right. A fellow who can adapt himself 
to any circumstances of living. For in- 
stance, when he and Mrs. Cagney re- 
turned to Hollywood for a picture be- 
fore their new home was completed, 
Jimmy said, "Why spend all this money 
to live in a hotel suite? There are a 
couple of rooms finished over our ga- 
rage, aren't there? Well, let's move in." 

And there the Cagneys lived, hap- 
pily and contentedly, for months. 

He gets kind of a little boy kick out 
of the Western outfit he wears in "Okla- 
homa Kid" and loves to talk with the 
old codgers on the set, men who really 
saw the lawlessness of the old West. 

And yet, he hasn't the kind of mind 
that can comprehend or appreciate a 
man's hobby if the scope of that hobby 
consumes time and money. Lloyd 
Bacon was talking to Jimmy about the 
elaborate toy train set he once owned, 
and the pleasure the costly miniature 
outfit had afforded him. 

"How much did it cost you?" Jimmy 

"Oh, about ten thousand dollars." 
Bacon replied, "with all the equipment." 

The face of Jimmy Cagney assumed 
perfect blankness. His mouth fell 
slightly open as he breathed, "Holy 
smoke . . ." 

He keeps in the best of trim and will 
climb over the hills all by himself just 
for the exercise. He's careful about his 
diet. Except for cookies. As I said in 
the beginning — there's something about 
Jim Cagney and a plate of cookies. . . . 

"Remember how I used to be, Carol? Forever 
letting dow n my friends . . . breaking dates ami 
appointments . . . staving at home several 
days each month — because 1 though] I had lo!" 1 

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EVERYBODY'S BABY— 20th Century-Foi 

I UK Jones Family has a new member 
in this rollicking episode — a grandchild 
who soon succeeds in breaking up the 
family. Quack doctor Reginald Denny 
tnoVM in and proceeds to bring up the 
ih-w baby scientifically, and the net re- 
sult of all the hygienic methods is that 
grandfather Jed Prouty rages and father 
Russell Gleason leaves his wife, Shir- 
ley Deane, until great-grandmother 
Florence Roberts takes a hand. 

LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE-Colonial-Paramounl 

I HE children will probably like this, 
but if you've grown fond of the comic 
strip character, you'll be very disap- 
pointed in the picturization. Ann Gillis 
is j47iuie and, if you can imagine it, she 
manages a prize fighter. The town 
heavies lock him up on the night of the 
big fight but, with the aid of the com- 
munity ladies, he breaks free and wins 
the fight. Who cares, anyway? 


nHEN you see the kids' bikes lined up 
outside a theater in the afternoon you 
will know this is showing. Tommy 
Kelly and Ann Gillis star, with Tommy 
still being too angelic for Peck's Bad 
Boy. The story is what you'd expect it 
to be. Benita Hume and Spanky Mc- 
Farland are also in the cast. 


nERE'S Joe E. Brown back again, with 
a swell comedy angle to work on. He's 
the leader of a troupe of actors who run 
into Leo Carrillo's banditti while en 
route (in a trailer) to New York. Car- 
rillo fancies Steffi Duna, one of Brown's 
thespians, and so the troupe is held in 

Joe E.'s antics, during the interim, 
will send you rolling into the aisles. 


AFTER "Love Finds Andy Hardy," this 
next in the series could not fail to crack 
the boxoffice for new records. The 
Hardy Family (Lewis Stone, Mickey 
Rooney, Cecilia Parker and Fay Hol- 
den) go to visit old friends who own a 
ranch in the West. These friends are 
having trouble over water rights and 
while Judge Hardy labors to straighten 
out the situation, Andy and Cecilia find 
that the Wild West is tougher than 
they thought it was. 


iHESE Little Tough Guys (Frankie 
Thomas, David Gorcey, etc.) have quite 
a time when they get a vacation on a 
rich estate. Society matron Mary Bo- 
land invites them to bring her snobbish 
son, Jackie Searl, around — and climax 
comes when a crook stages a real stick- 
up. Then the Tough Guys, and Jackie 
too, come to the rescue. It's all handled 
from a comic viewpoint. • 


flHEN Ray Milland returns from Eu- 
rope with a secret French bride, Olympe 
Bradna, he discovers his family is plan- 
ning to announce his engagement to 
Irene Hervey. Out of such a situation 
comes excellent comedy, with plenty of 
slapstick action to give it added interest. 


T OU swing it. We give it to you. 
You're tired of football now, anyway, 

(Cotitinued jrom page 49) 

but maybe you can get some excitement 
out of Tom Brown (he's been a college 
boy too long) and Robert Wilcox being 
Wilcox grandstands in football 
games while Brown is considerate and 
doesn't Still, this threatens their friend- 
ship. Constance Moore doesn't help 
any, since both love her. Guess how 
the big game comes out? 



UT a nurse, a crooked fight racketeer, 
a criminal lawyer and a prize fighter 
together, yell "Roll 'err," read a good 
book, and then yell "Cut!" You get 
this. Nurse Helen Mack loves fighter 
Dick Foran, lawyer Edmund Lowe loves 
Helen, but nobody else loves anybody 
else. Someone is killed (you won't care 
who) and they accuse Foran. Lowe 
takes the case, despite loving Helen, 
who loves Foran, who gives up fighting 
to be a bellhop. Oh, well. . . . 

PARDON OUR NERVE-20th Century-Fox 

IN this picture, you get Lynn Bari and 
June Gale as gals who, of all things, 
are prize-fight managers. This situa- 
tion is good for quite a few laughs, with 
"Big Boy" Williams and Edward 
Brophy gagging as if they meant it. 
Michael Whalen supplies romance, such 
as it is. 


ADD another college picture, on the 
not-so-hot side. Lew Ayres is a Har- 
vard Senior who doesn't want to get 
married. But he falls in love with 
Maureen O'Sullivan and when she gets 
together with her girl friends he hasn't 
a chance. Everything winds up, includ- 
ing his hopes for the free life, at a 
Spring Dance. 

Writing is badly done and Ayres is 
at a disadvantage. Burgess Meredith, 
as his pal, hams just a little. 


lOR those whose interest in the theater 
is very great, this is a handsome and 
especially well-done piece of education. 
Simplicity is the story's keynote, with 
Luise Rainer cast as the poor factory 
girl who wants to act and to whom Art 
is everything. Rainer is at her best in 
this. So is Paulette Goddard, as a prac- 
tical actress. Gale Sondergaard, Alan 
Marshal, Lana Turner, Genevieve To- 
bin, Anthony Allan and other good 
troupers lend their able support, but 
watch Goddard. 


"The SHINING HOUR" is a little tar- 
nished, but you can't- blame its stars for 
that. Joan Crawford gives one of the 
most polished performances of her long 
career; Margaret Sullavan, as is inev- 
itable, steals each scene she's in. The 
story is that of a lowborn dancer, La 
Crawford, who marries a rich South- 
erner and goes with him to his farm. 


Due to the fact that we carry a 
number of unusual features in this 
issue, we have not printed "Casts of 
Current Pictures." If, however, any 
reader desires a particular cast of a 
picture reviewed this month and will 
drop us a card, we shall be happy to 
forward the cast in question. 

Said farm looks like the public library 
and houses Fay Bainter, Robert Young 
and his wife, Maggie S. You get 
the setup: Joan and Robert are at- 
tracted to each other and there ensues 
an involved period in which no one 
knows who's in love with whom. Mel- 
vyn Douglas does an excellent job as 
Joan's husband. 


Goldwyn-United Artists 

KlCH girl poor boy, again. But it's 
done on a grand scale and furnishes 
valuable entertainment. Merle Oberon 
is the daughter of a politician who 
goes to the Miami house to escape pub- 
licity in the face of her father's Presi- 
dential campaign and there gets demo- 
cratic with her maids, Patsy Kelly and 
Mabel Todd. Starved for amusement, 
Merle goes with them on a blind date 
and it turns out to be Gary Cooper, a 
cowboy who is in Florida for the Rodeo. 
He is sincere about everything and asks 
her to marry him. She does. The re- 
sult is that he doesn't know she's rich, 
because he doesn't like rich girls, and 
her father doesn't know she is married, 
since the disgrace of it all would ruin 
him. How Merle gets out of this mess 
makes good cinema. Cooper gives his 
usual fine performance; Miss Oberon is 
a kind of British Carole Lombard; and 
Patsy Kelly is in there for the laughs. 
Harry Davenport, as Merle's uncle, has 
a grand role. 


WHEN "Thanks for the Memory" was 
such a great song hit, Paramount de- 
cided they might as well capitalize on 
it. This is the result. Bob Hope and 
Shirley Ross are reunited as the married 
couple who find difficulty in getting 
along and so able is their work, so well 
defined the story, so capable the direc- 
tion that the piece is one of the best 
comedies of the month. Hope is thor- 
oughly at ease in his role of the young 
novelist, and Miss Ross is very attrac- 
tive as the young bride, an ex-model 
who goes back to work so he can write. 
The nostalgic value of the song is well 
used when the two separate, with the 
fact that a Heavenly bundle is on its 
way doing the rest. 


A BANG-UP melodrama, this has ac- 
tion, thrills, the oldest of plots and a 
simulated English accent. Patric 
Knowles plays the intelligence service 
aviator who finds the secret radio sta- 
tion which is inciting natives to rebel- 
lion. Dick Cromwell dies in a plane 
crash while trying to warn the march- 
ing troops of an ambush. And there 
you have it, except for Rochelle Hudson. 

Korda-United Artists 

WHILE there is a familiar ring to its 
crime school plot, n3w faces and excel- 
lent photography put this English pic- 
ture into the above-average class. Cru- 
elty reigns in a girls' reformatory until 
the arrival of new superintendent Edna 
Best. Her clean-up job becomes so ab- 
sorbing that her neglected fiance, prison 
doctor Barry Barnes, transfers his in- 
terests to a young inmate, Corinne Lu- 
chaire, and the eternal tragic triangle 

Corinne Luchaire is hauntingly lovely 
as the incorrigible. Most interesting 
part of the film is the honest characteri- 
zations of minor roles. 


Brief Reviews 

• IF I WERE KING-Paramount 

A rich period piece, elaborately embroidered 
with spectacular sets, huge crowds of peasants an d 
princes and charmingly acted by the chief protagon- 
ists, Ronald Colman as Francois, the 15th Century 
poet-adventurer, and Basil Rath bone (superb) as 
the sly, craven Louis XI. Frances Dee is de-lightful 
as the lady-in-waiting who captures Colman's heart 
after Ellen Drew has had it. This is your dish. (Dec.) 

INSIDE STORY-20th Century-Fox 

The second in the "roving reporter" series finds 
Michael Whalen a^ain the intrepid newsman in- 
volved in a night-club murder when the villain 
steals the witness, Jean Rogers. Oh, well, it all 
works out. A weak sister. (Jan.) 


20th Century-Fox 

Shirley Temple's studio has given her a perfect 
formula for her growing-up talents in this gay 
picture. Daughter of a depression ruined architect 
(Charles Farrell), she manages to charm a flint- 
hearted old mogul into putting papa back into 
big-time money. Joan Davis, Bert Lahr, Cora 
Witherspoon, Bill Robinson and others do their 
stuff. (Jan.) 


A hard-fisted drama of a pair of friendly enemies, 
Lloyd Nolan and Robert Preston, who forget their 
leuds to hunt for J. Carrol Naish, an escaped con- 
vict hiding aboard a tramp steamer. Gail Patrick, 
the ship's nurse, is calmly beautiful through the 
bloody fracas; Harry Carey is clever as the captain. 
Pretty brutal. (Dec.) 


A genuine understanding of the problems of 
young marrieds is evident in this simple tale. 
Gloria Stuart and Lanny Ross are the couple whose 
attempts to keep up with the Joneses force a re- 
adjustment in their lives after much action and 
some suspense. Very nice. (Dec.) 


This little story of an everyday problem and how 
to solve it is fresh as a daisy. When widow Mary 
Astor decides to marry a man she doesn't love, 
daughter Judy Garland and son Freddie Bartholo- 
mew decide to take a hand, find a perfect papa 
for a ready-made family in Walter Pidgeon. It's 
very funny. (Jan.) 


Miss Stanwyck, carrying her furs with great 
aplomb as a Park Avenue heiress, runs afoul a 
murder in the first reel. Bodies continually dis- 
appear, but "Babs" and her coterie of debs clear 
up a crime wave in a swank way to the disgust 
of Henry Fonda, a hard-working reporter. You will 
grin like silly all the way through. (Jan.) 


It's warbling Gene Autry to the rescue when real 
estate sharks take over a ghost town. Carol Hughes 
does little but look pretty, Sally Payne is funny, 
Smiley Burdette is around as Autry's aide. Lots 
of cowboy heroics. (Nov.) 


A heart-appealing story of a country doctor more 
interested in the life and death of his patients than 
in his bank account. Lee Bowman, as the son who 
disappoints him, Anne Shirley, as his adopted 
daughter, are splendid, but it's Edward Ellis, as the 
medicine man, who steals his own show. (Dec.) 


You don't need our advice about this magnificent 
effort to make you happily, if weepily, sentimental 
over the young Queen of France who lost her head 
in 1793. Norma Shearer is superb. Tyrone Power, 
as her lover, John Barrymore, Robert Morley, 
Anita Louise, Joseph Schildkraut and too many to 
mention are simply elegant. Yellow orchids to this. 

■k MEN WITH WINGS— Paramount 

Due to expert technical direction and Techni- 
color, this is in the main an exciting, if sketchy, 
saga of men's conquest of the air from the Wright 
Brothers to Howard Hughes. Basting it together is 
a triangle love affair between I.ouise Campbell, 
Fred MacMurray and Ray Milland. Great spec- 
tacle. (Jon.) 


What goes on here, anyway? Organs are played 
by invisible hands, doors close with no one around, 
thunder rolls madly while Paul Kelly, a journalist, 
wanders around murmuring proverbs while solving 
a murder. Of all the nonsensical pictures, this takes 
the biscuit. (Nov.) 


Just as daffy as the title indicates, this allows Joe 
Penner to be band leader, Ping-pong champion, 
football player and general campus cut-up . . . and 
he'll make you laugh in the bargain. Otherwise j ust 
another college pix. (Dec.) 

MY LUCKY STAR-20th Century-Fox 

A too mediocre college film, until Sonja Henie 
gets on the ice — then the screen becomes magic. 
English Richard Greene (his accent is impossible) 
is her beau ideal; Cesar Romero is again a play- 
boy caught in the clutches of gold-digger Louise 
Hovick. See this for Sonja's lovely ballet and for 
her smiling self. (Nov.) 


Possibly on a double bill you will grab this little 
melodrama of gangsters and iron lungs. Relax. It's 
not bad. Bob Livingston plays the reporter who 

(Continued from page 6) 

gets past hijackers with a respirator to help Bob 
Armstrong's sick brother. June Travis is easy to 
look at. (Dec.) 


In this series of eight shorts, Mickey Mi 
father pnflves again the ineffable amusement in 
animated cartoons. "Ferdinand the Bull," "The 
Ugly Duckling," "Mother Goose Goes Holly- 
wood," "Donald's Lucky Day," "The Practical 
Pig," "Goofy and Wilbur," "The Brave Little 
Tailor" and "Barnyard Symphony" ... we hope 
you catch each and every one. (Dec.) 


A surprise awaits you who expect just another 
movie and find here a gay and charming hit. 
Robert Young is the rich boy who falls in love with 
Ruth Hussey, a poor girl — but proud. Lew Ayres, 
as the complaining cousin, is priceless and Lana 
Turner looks button-cute. (Nov.) 

ROAD DEMON-20th Century-Fox 

A stirring little action-drama, second in the series 
of sports-adventure pictures dealing with the thrills 
and hazards of auto racing. Henry Armetta is 
again the garrulous, lovable Papa Gambini. Thomas 
Beck, Henry Arthur and Joan Valerie round out the 
cast. (.Yoi>.) 

ROAD TO RENO, THE-Unlversal 

Hope Hampton looms as a new screen per- 
sonality who sings divinely, looks ditto. The story 
is a satire on divorce in a Nevada setting with 
Randy Scott as the rancher husband who teaches 
his changeable wife a good lesson in matrimony. 
Glenda Farrell, Helen Broderick and Alan Marshal 
are able support. (Nov.) 


The mad Marxes in the screen version of the play 
that rocked Broadway. It concerns a down-at-the- 
heel producer who boards his whole company at a 
hotel, is then at his wits end to get any bread to put 
butter on for them all. Frank Albertson, Donald 
MacBride, Philip Loeb and the Marxes themselves 
will have you hysterical with laughter at moments. 

SAFETY IN NUMBERS-20th Century-Fox 

The Jones family in one of the fastest comedies 
in the series. June Carlson wins a radio contest; 
Ma Jones then goes on the air, swindlers step in, 
the clan goes to her support and wonderful things 
happen till you are pretty hysterical. The usual cast. 


Golly, this is a bad picture. There was originally a 
good idea in a woman running a personal service 
bureau on the look out for a husband, but the 
humor missed fire. Connie Bennett is the inventive 
business gal, Vincent Price (late of "Victoria 
Regina" on the stage) does nicely in his first screen 
role. (Jan.) 

• SISTERS, THE-Warners 

Myron Brinig's novel dealing with the varying 
romances of three sisters, against a San Francisco 
background in the early '°0's, emerges on the 
screen as one of the great emotional dramas of the 
year. Emphasized is the marriage of Bette Davis to 
a drunken, irresponsible newspaper man, Errol 
Flynn. Anita Louise, Jane Bryan, Beulah Bondi and 
Henry Travers are outstanding. On your "must" 
list. (Dec.) 


100% Americanism patriotically glorified in this 
sentimental piece concerning a former soldier dis- 
honorably discharged and the effect of this on his 
two sons who wish to join the Legion. Tim Holt, 
Billy Cook, Billy Lee, Lynne Overman and Eliza- 
beth Patterson contribute touching moments. (Dec.) 


A high-spirited tale of friendship between two 
men (Henry Fonda and George Raft) in the days 
of fierce fishermen feuds in the salmon waters of 
Alaska, tins is sometimes an epic, often an error. 
Louise Campbell and Dot Lamour are "the women," 
but Slicker, the seal, steals the show. The photog- 
raphy and fights scenes are superb — so is John 
Barrymore. (Nov.) 


As a workout for the tear ducts, this is another in 
the four-handkerchief class. Wallace Beery has 
again his sad-eyed "Champ" role as the discredited 
horse doctor; Mickey Rooney, with a heart of gold, 
is his pal. Margaret Hamilton and Marjorie Gate- 
son are elegant support. The Rooney is quite at 
home. (Dec.) 

STORM, THE-Universal 

A whirlwind of action takes place in this minor 
drama. Charles Bickford, he-man wireless operator, 
and sea captain Barton MacLane, put on terrific 
brawls when Bickford's pal, Preston Foster, dies 
on shipboard. Tom Brown and Nan Grey are 
loverlike; Andy Devine and Frank Jenks supply 
the comedy. (Jan.) 


Three bad men on a horse, the Ritz Brothers, skim 
tlirough this race-track story with their usual balmi- 
ness. Dick Arlen and Phyllis Brooks are the nag's 
owners; they land behind the eight ball and so does 
the horse. Ethel Merman's torch songs are swell. 

ir SUBMARINE PATROL-20th Century-Fox 

An excitingly well-handled story of the splinter 
fleet, that World War group of ships which hunted 
enemy submarines. Richard Greene is the rich 
snob shown the error of his ways by Nancy Kelly 
(Zanuck's new find — and nice); Preston Foster 

-11 as the officer who heroically regains hi- 

Lost reputation. Very fine. {Jan.) 

it SUEZ— 20th Century-Fox 

If you like your history artistically (if t. 
truthfully) told. y>u will Ik- highly enti I 
watching Tyrone Power ■>- Ferdinand >U I 
<li« the Suez Canal. Loretta Young, 

««, and Annabelia, as a French uamin with 
a heart of gold, take his mind oh In- work at | 
Tin- photography, the simoon -<-<tuc-nce and the 
supporting cu^t are exciting. (Jan.) 


The new Jeanette MacDonald-Nelaon Eddy film 
< famous team married, playing in I 

pa rated by the machinations of Frank 
Morgan, a producer, Mischa Auer. a playwright, 
and Reginald Gardiner, a Hollywood agent. This 
has beauty and the delicious melodies of Victor 
rt sung by the pair — both in perfect voice. 
(You 11 go without any of our remarks.) (Jan.) 


Cops and robbers are played again with Bruce 
Cabot surprisingly on the side of the law. You 11 
remember Tommy Ryan, a youthful newcomer, 
who is finally persuaded by Cabot that there is no 
gain in guns. Beverly Roberts i* adequate as the 
girl in love with the policeman. (.Vot.) 


Check up another triumph for Deanna Durbin's 
singing in this story of a young girls infatuation for 
an older man (Melvyn Douglas) and her reaction to 
the pangs of first love. Irene Rich and John Halli- 
day as Deanna's parents and Jackie Cooper 
beau are exceptional support. Delightful. (Dec.) 


A dated story on the "It Happened One Night" 
angle with Freddie March miscast as the nev 
chasing Virginia Bruce, an heiress uored with hex 
dough. Patsy Kelly is Ginny's shop-girl friend and 
gets any laughs there are. If you are a devotee of 
the goofy school. (Dec.) 


All the ingredients in this pie are A-N'o. I. Itoffers 
Bob Montgomery as an author, his old-time role 
as sophisticate, Janet Gaynor as the na'ive little 
country wench whom he falls in love with on a 
lecture tour. Franchot Tone is a playboy publisher, 
also nuts about Janet. The dialogue is particularly 
good and all the principals are at their best. (Nov.) 


A spectacular saga of newsreel men and an 
aviatrix, filled with explosive action and suspense. 
Gable is at his exuberant best as the sly camera- 
man who uses his charm to entice flyer Myrna Loy 
to fake a few shots, finally wins tier from rival 
Walter Pidgeon in fine style. If you liked "Test 
Pilot," you'll be nuts about this sequel. (Dec.) 


John Howard is the smart-aleck ace football hero 
who comes to West Point, takes a beating because 
he isn't "regular." Mary Carlisle, the Major's 
daughter, then puts in her oar, and Love and the 
Army team set out to win. Straight autumn cinema. 


We thought we had said finis to screwball 
comedies schooled in an asylum, but no . . . Dennis 
O'Keefe and Florence Rice are pretty dizzy in this 
one, marrying in haste and repenting in leisure. 
Reginald Owen is perfect as the capitalist father 
who wants miracles of service because he pays his 
taxes, doesn't he? (Dec.) 


Buttressed with magnificent natural scenery in 
Technicolor and heavy action in the way of fistic 
encounters, Peter B. Kyne's rugged story of the 
California redwoods adds up thus — boy has lumber 
property, villain has mortgage, both want girl. 
Wayne Morris. Charles Bickford and Claire Trevor 
play their straightforward roles in character. Worth 
seeing. (Nov.) 


Frank Capra has miraculously transferred the 
daffy doings of Grandpa Vanderhof from the stage 
to the screen. An appealing love story, a subtle 
commentary on American life filled with delicious 
humor, a slick job of casting and acting — what more 
do you want? Lionel Barrymore, Spring Byington, 
Jimmy Stewart, Jean Arthur, Edward Arnold, 
Mischa Auer — each is beautiful. (.Vot.) 


Lionel Barrymore and Lew Ayres both handle 
their jobs with sincere competency in this conven- 
tional story of a veteran physician's faith In a 
young intern who prefers a metropolitan hi 
ward to country practice, lands in trouble when he 
denes a rich patient. Jo Ann Sayers (new to films) 
is Ayres' romance. (Jan.) 

ir YOUNG IN HEART, THE-Selznick-U. A. 

Introducing a giddy family which lives by its 
wits on other people's pocketbooks. Billie Burke i* 
the flighty mamma; Roland Young, the upstart 
father; Janet Gaynor and Doug Fairbanks Jr.. 
brother and sister. Paulette Goddard is Doug's 
heart interest, Richard Carlson, Janet's. Minnie 
Dupree is elegant as the rich old lady who cliangcs 
the family's tune. A good job. (Jan.) 


There is something satisfying in this unpreten- 
tious picture of a girl's attempts to follow the adage 
"the way to a man's heart is through his stomach." 
Joel McCrea couldn't be better as the Kansas farmer 
boy who yearns for the sea; Andrea Leeds is prettily 
adequate as the shop girl. Lots of chuckles. (Dec.) 

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Precocity Plus! 

(Continued /rom page 65) 

rt !u.i\ I 

Lik. : little girls in 

quiotly and happily, in .1 

hull- borne in ■ 

I the city. 

I Martha Quigley who 

hildren, Juanita was 

: on Juno 24. 1931, 

une the pridi 

1 brother and 1 

ittve daughter," she exphiins 
Her father, ownei J groc e r y 

mark. .1 with pride at her first 

tooth, at her ability when only two years 
«>ld t unusually long words. 

■ the whole family prac- 
tically burst with joy when baby Juan- 
do only theatrically minded Quig- 
her movie debut. 
a "natural " Hollywood, five 
later, found that out. You, who 
That Certain Age," have also 
ivered it. 
A child's behavior abroad is a reflec- 
tion of his behavior home — sometimes. 
icitement or fatigue can throw 
"ff balance, naturally, as Juan- 
But. discounting these 
dons, the rule works. So, before I 
give you a picture of this child at work, 
let's go back to Juanita at home and 
survey, briefly, the causes behind those 
effects that take place outside the home. 
At three o'clock every afternoon 
there's a flurry of excitement in the 
Quigley household. Rita, aged fifteen, 
in from school about the time eigh- 
teen-year-old Quentin, in from his 
school, bangs open the back door with 
a loud. "Hey, what's in the ice box?" 
There's a squeal, a quick flash of bare 
legs as Juanita, head on, meets her big 
brother and sister in the hall for a mad 
scramble of hugs, kisses and giggles. 

The baby alligator in the backyard 
must then be inspected, anr 1 its face 
washed again and again. Ju: ita has a 
fixed idea its scaly surface is lain, old, 
out-and-out dirt. 

I HERE are two treats for Juanita that 
inevitably follow dinner. The evening 
walk and the evening story, that usually 
comes from the same little story book. 

When working, dialogue is learned by 
her mother reading the whole scene 
aloud to Juanita who, in ten minutes, 
can repeat back, not only her own, but 
everyone else's lines. 

"Naturally," she says, giving the eye 
business again, "Mother is a great help." 

There is no correction of faults in 
public or before visitors. Quietly, Mrs. 
Quigley sits in the background, allow- 
ing Juanita, unhampered, to be herself. 
Sessions take place in the bedroom 

Invitations to her parties are designed 
and written by Juanita to the guests she, 
herself, choo^' 

Famous children in pictures are 

lauded, praised, talked of as if Juanita 

had never even seen Hollywood herself. 

■. Shirley Temple once," 

Quigley said, "and just think of 

the thousands of children who would 

give anything just to see Shirley." 

Juanita agrees with her lips. Her 

.I an inner suspicion that just 

iMi't nearly the thrilling- 

ly hot event her mother imagines. Not 

■ iig as Jackie Searl exists in the 

world, at least. 

Along about twilight however, comes 
the event that sends visitors out the 
Quigley front door, eyes fogged with 


Each year Hollywood watches for PHOTOPLAY'S Gold Medal Award. 
Once again our readers are invited to select the winner. Vote now! 

ANOTHER cinematic year has gone by 
and the time has come to decide which 
of all the many screen offerings will 
not only be privileged to be treasured 
in your memory as a perfect picture, 
but will, because of that excellence, win 
the outstanding annual award for merit, 
Photoplay's Gold Medal. 

We are always immensely interested 
in our readers' voting; it furnishes a 
splendid cross section of information on 
"what the public wants." Though most 
studio heads insist — and rightly — that 
the one duty of a motion picture is to 
entertain, few can quarrel with the idea 
also advanced that this medium is 
something more than an escapist's para- 
dise. Films are playing an increasingly 
important role in world affairs; they 
are the greatest source of education in 
the world today. 

The balloting on "The Best Picture 
of the Year" will be close; it always is. 
Thus it behooves you to send in your 
vote today so that your particular fa- 
vorite will have a lead. To jog your 
memory, we list on this page outstand- 
ing pictures of the past year. Needless 
to say, space does not permit us to list 
all the superb pictures released; if your 
pet is not here, vote for it anyway; it 
will be counted with the rest. This has 
been a controversial year. Medical 
films are nip and tuck with historical 
dramas; wacky comedy and sinister 
crime films continue heavily in the 
running. The musicals, though not so 
numerous as in past years, still have 
their place on any moviegoer's "must 
see" list. 

There are no rules in this election. 
You either fill out the ballot below or 
write your choice on a slip of paper and 
mail to the Gold Medal Editor, Photo- 
play. 122 East 42nd St., New York City. 

BEST PICTURE OF 1933! The picture 
that wins the most votes wins Photo- 
play's Gold Medal. 


Alexander's Rag- 
time Band 
Adventures of 

Marco Polo, The 
Adventures of Robin 

Hood, The 
Adventures of Tom 

Sawyer, The 
Amazing Dr. Clitter- 

house. The 
Angels with Dirty 

Arkansas Traveler 
Blackwell's Island 
Bluebeard's Eighth 

Boy Meets Girl 
Boys Town 
Bringing Up Baby 
Brother Rat 
Buccaneer, The 
Citadel, The 
Cowboy and the 

Lady, The 
Crime School 
Crowd Roars, The 
Dawn Patrol 
Dramatic School 

Four Daughters 
Goldwyn Follies 
Girl of the Golden 

West, The 
Gunga Din 
Happy Landing 
Having Wonderful 

If I Were King 
In Old Chicago 
loy of Living 
Just Around the 


Letter of Introduction 
Lord Jeff 

Love and Hisses 
Love Finds Andy 

Mad About Music 
Mad Miss Manton 
Man to Remember 
Marie Antoinette 
Men with Wings 
Merrily We Live 
Of Human Hearts 
Rage of Paris, The 
Rebecca of Sunny- 
brook Farm 
Room Service 
Shining Hour, The 
Shopworn Angel 
Sing, You Sinners 
Sisters, The 
Slight Case of 

Murder, A 
Snow White and the 

Seven Dwarfs 
Submarine Patrol 

Test Pilot 
Texans, The 
That Certain Age 
Three Loves Has 

Three Comrades 
Too Hot to Handle 
Toy V/ife, The 
Trade Winds 
Valley of the Giants 
Vivacious Lady 
Wells Fargo 
White Banners 
Yank at Oxford, A 
You Can't Take It 

with You 
Young in Heart, The 
Yellow Jack 

r 1 








In my opinion the picture named below Is 
best motion-picture production released in I 





tears, knees bended to the genius within 
the plump short body of a little girl. 

It happens when Juanita climbs atop 
the volume labeled "History of West- 
ern Civilization" that rests on the piano 
bench and her feet touch a stool placed 
beneath. It happens when her absurd- 
ly small hands pause a moment over 
the keys and then, quickly flashing up 
and down the keyboard, bring forth the 
breath-taking melodies of the masters. 

Tiny soldiers in bright red uniforms 
seem to march bravely up and down the 
rug as Juanita plays the stirring strains 
of Schubert's "Marche Militaire." 
Laughter floats from her fingers in "Feu 

In just another short year or so Juan- 
ita Quigley will make one of the most 
sensational personal appearance tours 
ever made by a star. Juanita, accord- 
ing to her teacher and musical experts, 
will tour the world as a concert pianist. 

HER adjustment from a little girl at 
home, to tempestuous, fast-talking ac- 
tress of the cinema, is, to me, the most 
remarkable thing about her, except, 
perhaps, her unbelievably long lashes. 

The youngest member of the cast of 
"That Certain Age," she immediately 
became one of them, with equal say, 
equal consideration, equal importance. 

To most of the cast she was "The 
Pest" and she loved it. To Jackie 
Cooper she was "Old Lady." "Come 
on, Old Lady," he'd say, "let's go get 
an icecream cone." 

To Deanna she was a friend on equal 
footing, with knitting, music and the 
disadvantages of seven over sixteen to 
be discussed. 

Occasionally, stories of her clever- 
ness are repeated by Juanita, pointing 
the way to rocks ahead. 

"And so," she told me, "when the 
producer, Mr. Pasternak, asked me for 
a date seventeen years from New Year's 
I just said, 'Sorry, but I don't make 
engagements that far ahead.' " 

Somewhere, someone along the line 
has fumbled badly in permitting Juan- 
ita to realize her own intuitive clever- 
ness is worthy of emphasis. But, even 
then, I count on her normalcy and 
sound sense to pull her over the danger- 
ous rocks of being a future smart aleck. 

Jackie Searl, who always found a 
shady seat under a location scene for 
the little girl, who always saw she had a 
cool drink of water, is her favorite — 
her first crush. 

The consideration of age is the one 
and only thing that cuts and wounds 
her deeply. When director Ludwig in- 
vited all the children of the cast except 
Juanita to a dinner and a preview of 
horror pictures, she was crushed when 
she found it out. 

"But, Butch," he tried to explain, "I 
felt you were too young for horror pic- 

"Yes, well what about the dinners. I 
cat, you know." 

Juanita attended the next Ludwig 
party. But even then she hadn't quite 
forgiven him. She rose to her feet for 
an impromptu after-dinner speech. 

"It's been wonderful," she toasted. 
"And thank you Deanna or whoever's 
responsible for this dinner," she added 
hurriedly, with a quick flash of the eyes 
at Ludwig. 

And now she's on. her golden way — 
up the ladder — with more and more pic- 
tures waiting. It will be interesting to 
watch and follow her upward. Unless 
she travels too fast for an old lady to 
follow. Which wouldn't surprise me. 




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-the Ball family has been 


in tobacco"... 

James M. Ball, like his father be- 
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For 24 years he's seen who buys 
what tobacco. Mr. Ball says: 
"Luckies buy the finest 'center 
leaves.' So I've smoked them since 
1917." Most other independent to- 
bacco experts also smoke Luckies. 




9 r 


■i / 

Easy on Your Throat - 
Becau self's TOASTE D 

Copyncfcl 1 a* Pm Anwrtttn Tol 

are you fried a lucky /afe/y ? 

J w 

Tobacco crops in the last few years 
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New methods, sponsored by the United 
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so Luckies are better than ever. Have 
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"for Beveral unhappy years 1 was a lemon in the 
garden of love. 

\\ bile other girls, no inure attractive than I, 
were invited everywhere, I sat home alone. 

"While they were getting engaged or married, I 
watched men come anil 

''\\ h\ did they grow indifferent to me bo quickly? 
\\ hat was my trouble? 

"A chance remark showed me the humiliating 
truth. M\ own worst enenrj was mj breath. The 
verj thing I hated in others, I mysell was guilt) of. 

"1 rom the da) I started using Listerine Antiseptic* 
. . . things took a decided torn for the 1 >< -i t < -r. 

people . . . go places. Men, inter- 
esting men, wealth) men admired me and took me 
ever) where. 

"Now, one nicer than all the rest ha- asked me 
to man*) him. 

"Perhaps in my story there is a hint for other 
women who think the) are on the shelf before their 
time: who take it for granted that their breath is 
beyond reproach when a: a matter of. fact it is not." 

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MARCH, 1939 



in the most romantic role 
that the grand star of 
"Test Pilot" and "Boys 
Town" has ever played 
on the screen. 




Welcome her to her first 
role in a Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer hit — as an exotic 
orchid of cafe society... 



Mona Barric • Louis Calhern • Jack Carson 



In addition to appearing in the motion picture publica- 
tions, this column also appears every month in McCall's, 
Pictorial Review, Redbook, Look and Liberty Magazines. 

"JTil* id a fctM \eitift 
■ro uot4. I Hta*tk 40U. 
rxaui \{i£. bofloHi of w^ 
liotti kedhf -fo\ Hie u*uj 
tpu fuu>£ A&ipondeA to 


Mickey Rooney, whose Hardy adventures have 
pressed him close to our collective bosom, is about 
ready for you in "Huckleberry Finn'.'. 

• • • * 

Rally 'round! All friends of Mark Twain this way! Think of it! 
Wire in for the delights of "Huck", Jim, the Duke of Bilgc- 
water, the Lost Dauphin, the Widow Douglas, Captain Brandy. 

• • • • 

It seems to me that the timing is perfect for the 
Mickey Rooney interpretation of this great Ameri- 
can story of the Mississippi folk. 

• • * • 

Shifting the scenery for the moment to Hawaii and 
the art of waving a grass skirt, there is Miss Elea- 
nor Powell, the girl born to dance, in "Honolulu!' 

• • • • 

Lest you think that "Honolulu" is a solemn treatise on Poly- 
nesian folkways, there is in the cast that female brain-trust. 
Miss Cracie Allen. ir -jr -k -k 

Pause for Station Announcement: M-G-M broad- 
casting the news to watch impatiently for "Hono- 
lulu"; "Huckleberry Finn"; "I Take This Woman". 


This game involves the use of your scissors — it is hence 
known as "Shear Nonsense" If you crave a photo of Mickey 
Rooney as "Huck" Finn, fall in name, address, and mail to 
Leo. M-G-M Studio. Box W. Culver City. Cal. 



• • • • 

Note: "Pygmalion". Bernard Shaw's first personally 
authorized, personally written, personally supervised 
production, will be presented under special circum- 
stances in all the highways and byways. It is a re- 
markable screen work. 

• * * * 

This is about the time when those New Year reso- 
lutions are beginning to feel the tug. But rest as- 
sured we'll keep to ours. 

• • * * 

Which is, to see that Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer con- 
tinues to lead the way in entertainment. 

• • • • 
See you on the screen. 



T 4f 

° F MOTION *** 








On the Covei — Sonja Henie, Natural Color Photograph by Paul Hesse 

Tyrone Power's Own Story of His South American Trip 17 

With revealing notes and comments by Ruth Waterbury 

Emily Post Tells What's Wrong with Movie Manners . . . Nanette Kutner 20 
A fascinating analysis of Hollywood's social blunders 

Second Chance Nina Wilcox Putnam 22 

Beginning — the story of Marie La Tour and her sensational comeback 

Play Truth and Consequences with Claudette Colbert . . Katharine Hartley 24 
Second in a series— an amusing new kind of interview 

Mr. Muni At Home Ida Zeitiin 26 

A revealing picture of a man who lives at peace with himself 

HIGHLIGHTS Sonja Heme's New Prince Charming Marian Rhea 28 

Found — a partner — young, handsome Stewart Reburn 

OF THIS ISSUE Hollywood, We Are Coming Lillian Day 30 

Another hilarious chapter from the autobiography of Jane Lyons 

"I Can't Wait To Be Forgotten" S. R. Mook 32 

Kay Francis looks ahead — to happiness without fanfare 

Photoplay Fashions Gwenn Walters 57 

Claudette Colbert — Mistress of Ceremonies of the Spring Fashion Revue 

Melvyn of the Movies Howard Sharpe 67 

Continuing the vivid life of a rebellious youth — Melvyn Douglas 

They're Talking About — 68 

New star material sighted in the Hollywood heavens 

The Camera Speaks: — 

Idiot's Delight 34 

Shearer and Gable go to town in a former Broadway play 

Are They the Type? 36 

Do you agree with the Hollywood casting directors? 

Major Minors ..40 

Photoplay resurrects some delightful baby pictures of the stars 

Fairhaven — A Hitherto Unseen Hollywood Estate ...... 42 

A magnificent "hobby," this home of Victor McLaglen's 

NEWS The "Spittin Image" 44 

Revealing some startling mother-daughter resemblances 

VIEWS AND Youth Takes a Fling 46 

A new type of rebus that takes you back to primer days 


Boos and Bouquets 4 

Brief Reviews of Current Pictures 6 

PHOTOPLAY'S Own Beauty Shop Carolyn Van Wyck 8 

How Well Do You Know Your Hollywood? 11 

Movies in Your Home Jack Sher 12 

Close Ups and Long Shots Ruth Waterbury 13 

Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 49 

The Shadow Stage 52 

We Cover the Studios Jack Wade 54 

Choose the Best Picture of 1938 70 

Fashion Letter 74 

Complete Casts of Pictures Reviewed in This Issue 96 

VOL UN., No. 3, MARCH, 1939 

Published Monthly by Macfadden Publications, Inc., 333 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 111. • Bernarr Macfadden, President • Irene T. Kennedy, 
Treasurer • Wesley F. Pape, Secretary • General Offices, 205 East 42nd St., New York, N. Y. • Editorial and Advertising Offices, Chanin 
Building, 122 East 42nd St., New York, N. Y., Curtis Harrison, Advertising Manager • Charles H. Shatruck, Manager, Chicago Office • London Agents, 
Macfadden Magazines, Ltd., 30 Bouverie St., London, E. C. 4 • Trade Distributors Atlas Publishing Company, 18 Bride Lane, London, E. C. 4 • Yearly 
Subscription: $2.50 in the United States, $3.00 in U. S. Possessions and Territories, also Cuba, Mexico, Haiti, Dominican Republic, Spain and Pos- 
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for any losses of such matter. Entered as second-class matter April 24, 1912, at the post office at Chicago, 111., under the act of March 3, 1879. 
Copyright, 1939, by Macfadden Publications, Inc. Registro Nacional de la Propiedad IntelectuaL 



Paul Muni, immor+alizer 
of great men, turns to 
the Mexican patriot for 
his next characterization 
in Warners' "Juarez," 
with Bette Davis as ill- 
fated Empress Carlotta 

■ hotoplay announces that prizes will no longer be awarded for letters 
appearing on this page. Unfortunately, some of our readers have not 
played fair with us, inasmuch as they have submitted and accepted checks 
for tetters which have won prizes for them in other magazines. On the 
other hand, many of our readers have looked upon this as a contest de- 
partment and for that reason have failed to send in their spontaneous and 
candid opinions concerning the motion- picture industry, its stars or pic- 
tures. It is our aim to give the public a voice in expressing its likes and 
dislikes concerning this great industry. This is your page. We welcomt 
your vims. Photoplay reserves the right to use gratis the letters sub- 
mitted in whole or in part. Letters submitted to any contest or department 
appearing in Photoplay become the property of the magazine. Contribu- 
tions will not be returned. Address: Boos and Bouquets, Photoplay, 
122 East 42nd Street, New York, N. Y. 


IN wishing Clark Gable the best of luck, 
Photoplay was the sounding board for 
America. In presenting Mrs. Gable's per- 
spective. Photoplay cleared up a problem vital 
to the millions of Gable well-wishers and gave 
the lie to the countless ill-founded rumors con- 
cerning the Gables' separation. Because it did 
two things without ever exceeding the 
bounds of good taste, it is a milestone in movie 
writing. This is the sort of story that makes 
fans see the human side of the star without 
<ing from his magnetism — rather than de- 
ng, it makes them realize that his personal- 
ity oil tin haped by problems as 
human and as pressing as their own. 

Robert Finlay, 
Glen Allen. 


UNE way to keep on being a BOB (Box Office 
make only one picture a year. My 

point is proved by Paul Muni. Of course, he is 
a magnificent actor — no one can gainsay that: 
on the other hand, there are other really able 
actors in Hollywood. But. frankly, one does get 
tired of seeing them so much. Too much, to 
my mind, are four pictures a Near. Mr. Muni 
the public and even the most hard-boiled 
critics in rapture with each picture, I insist it 
is because he is smart enough to know that. alas. 
familiarity breeds contempt; at least, it breeds 
a disinclination to "walk a mile for a Muni." 

We are all waiting breathlessly for "Juarez" 
because, while we vividly remember "Zola," it is 
almost two years since we have seen the dis- 
tinguished Mr. Muni's map on the screen. 

Amos Ilk, 
Pittsburgh, Pa. 

mAY I register a protest against the film, 
"Angels With Dirty Faces'.'"' Although the idea 
behind the film was quite evidently to point 
out the lesson that "crime doesn't pay" it failed 
in this purpose and instead accomplished quite 
the opposite — it glorified the criminal. The 
weak-kneed priest never for a moment tempted 
the sympathy of the audience. By the way, Pat 
O'Brien looks beautiful in those clothes, but he 
underplayed his part. Saps were made out of 
the officers of the law. The boys were so tough 
that in real life their gang would have been 
broken up years before the story opened — and 
don't you think the cops would have been wis,e 
to that old bide-out? 

Human nature is a mixture of good and evil — 
with plenty of reason for it to go mostly evil, 
but please remember that the majority of people 
are law-abiding and fairly trustworthy and 
anxious to be normally true to their principles. 
The ending of the film, making the criminal "go 
yellow" for the sake of impressing the boys, 
provided a phony climax to a very doubtful title. 
Uplift — I'm asking you? 

M. S. Smith, 
Omaha, Nebr. 


JAMES CAGNEY in the picture, "Angels With 
Dirty Faces," plays the difficult role of a gang- 
ster who must, by the sheer power of his acting, 
win the sympathy of his audience. His vivid 
portrayal of Rocky Sullivan is something to re- 
member, even to the occasional "hunching" of 
his shoulders. His manner of winning his au- 
dience and injecting a warm human quality 
into his unsympathetic role smacks of perfec- 
tion and would have been impossible to obtain, 
had it been played by someone of lesser ability. 
By the sheer power of his acting Cagney has 
taken a despicable personality, softened it, given 
it color and when at last, for moral purposes, he 
dies nobly, it is to leave the audience with tear- 
wet eyes and a sense of regret that the picture 
has ended and so also has Rocky Sullivan! 
Mrs. H. J. Rlngler, 
Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. 


I HIS letter is written especially for J. D. of 
Salt Lake City who wrote such an untrue state- 
ment recently about Joan Crawford. Publicity 
is not the very breath of life to her, as you put 
it. Joan is always trying to please her many 
fans and so, naturally, her name is important 
enough to keep in the news. Every actress is 
ambitious to succeed. Naturally, they like lots 
of publicity. Joan Crawford is one of the finest 
actresses I know of. Don't you think that her 
separation from Franchot is her business and 
that we should not even stop to wonder about 
the matter at all, for that is her problem to 
figure out in her own way. How would you feel 
if someday Joan came up to you and said "J. D., 
what is it about me that you don't like?" I'm 
sure you would feel like the smallest mouse. 
Ginger L. Bagnall, 
Morristown, N. J. 

I'M glad that "J. D." of Salt Lake City has 
come to the defense of Franchot Tone. Surely 
there are thousands of fans who admire Mr. 
Tone for his splendid acting, his air of good 
breeding and his beautiful and moving voice. 
It has upset some of us to see the pictures of 
Joan and Franchot in the various magazines. In 
each she was looking away from him, or devot- 
ing all her attention to the family pooch, with 
Franchot playing a lonely third. Franchot 
looked as if he realized her lack of interest all 
too well. I'm sure he, as well as his public, is 
relieved that he is free. 

Ann Moore, 
Albany, N. Y. 

I'D like to ask "J. D," the writer of a recent 
letter, a question. How can you, who know 
nothing about the Crawford-Tone marriage ex- 
cept what you've read and heard, presume to 
say what broke it up? Be fair! I'm a Crawford 
fan. an ardent one, but that doesn't mean I am 
going to hurl a lot of silly charges at Franchot. 
I admire him, too, as an actor. 

Who told you Joan is a flop at the box office? 
Don't let one person speak for the nation. I'm 
not being catty, but if you want to be honest 
with yourself you can't help knowing that her 
pictures have always been a bigger draw than 
Franchot's. Come on. wish them both luck; 
they're both grand people. 

Laura Steccone, 

Oakland, California. 

(Continued on page 10) 


"He was an outlaw.. .a killer. ..his life 
was the epic story of a lawless era!" 

He was hunted, but he was human ! And there 
was one —gentle yet dauntless— who flung her 
life away— into his arms! 

The spectacular drama of the nation s most 
famous outlaw and the turbulent events that 
gave him to the world! 

"Jesse, you're a hero now! But this 
will get into your blood! You'll turn 
into a filler and a wolf!" 

"I k noW ' but I hate the railroads, 
and when I hate, I hade to do some- 
thing about it!'' 


Photographed in TECHNICOLOR 



Henry Hull • Slim Summerville 
J. Edward Bromberg • Brian Donlevy 
John Carradine • Donald Meek 
John Russell • Jane Darwell 

Directed by Henry King 

Associate Producer and Original 
Screen Play by Nunnally Johnson 

A 20th Century-Fox Picture 


MARCH , 1939 


Director John Ford (top) holds a pow- 
wow with the Indians in Wanger's 
"Stagecoach," the pioneer drama 
featuring Claire Trevor (center), in 
the femme lead, and young Tim Holt 


D ignlficent 

ne .t gangster 
(Pat O Brien) and tli-ir 



f in itinerant 
printer. - lance to Will R rcnmora 

■ ic widow \\ : 

| : . 

Irving < I'ainily (arc. (Dec.) 


i multitude ■ ■ 
a CMt in top performing condition and enough story to keep tilings 

BEACHCOMBER, THE-Mayflower-Paramount 


20th Century-Fox 



GOING PLACES— Warners . 


KENTUCKY-20th Century-Fox . . 

LAST WARNIN8, THE— Universal 



PARIS HONEYMOON-Paramount . . 

SMILING ALONG-20th Century-Fox . . 


SWING, SISTER, SWING-Universal . . 



TOPPER TAKES A TRIP— Hal-Roach-United 



20th Century-Fox 


ZAZA— Paramount 52 

rolling. Jack Benny is the theatrical producer who trie- by hook 
and crook to keep his troop of beauties in Paris one jump 
of the police. Joan Bennett, Mary Boland and the Yacht Club 
rupply the fun. (Jan.) 


Y >u remember the excellent work done by John Garfield in 

"Foui Daughters. " This time he is the hard-hitting reporter who 

venal prison conditions* Rosemary Lane ifl the policeman's* 

mi loves him. Victor Jory, Stanley Fields and Dick Purcell 
are in the cast. Packs plenty of punch. (Feb.) 


Beginning :i series based on the comic strip followed by millions, 
11 uld be mildly important. Penny Singleton is Blondie; 

Arthur Lake, the frustrated, misunderstood husband, D 
Larry Simms is Baby Dumpling; Gene Loclchart. Dagwood's boss. 
Be sur< kids — you'll all laugh. (Jan.) 

• BROTHER RAT-Warners 

and frankness, this tale nf throe cad 
Virginia Military Academy departs from the usual style of campus 
drama Wayi ddie Albert and Ronald Reagan have 

I J. me Wyniiin and Jane 

I graduating, and winning the ball game. Everything is 

the end. A to mey. (Jan.) 


Betty Grable, Eleanore Whitney and Hill Henry, perennial Col- 
Camper around, but the plot centers about Hank 
■ib.ill star, who proves that athletics belong in any 
college curriculum. 


liy the M-C-M unit in England, A. J. Cronin's touching 
novel era powerful -Uidy of an idc. ill-tie young doctor 

poverty until .in easy way out pr< f, La later 

regenerated by nil Deal friend and his loyal wife. The sure finesse 
of Robert, Rosalind Russell and Ralph Richardson makes 
it doubly important for you to sec tlus. (Jan.) 

Consult This Movie Shopping 
4. u i d e a n d S a v v Your T i in e 9 
M o n e y a n d ii i s position 


• COWBOY AND THE LADY, THE-Goldwyn-United Artists 

Ricli girl, poor boy again, but as gay as your new hat and done 
in the usual Sam Goldwyn styles — which glitters. Merle Oberon 
is a kind of cultured British Carole Lombard. Gary Cooper is in his 
element as the shy cowhand who marrie- her. Patsy Kelly is there 
for laughs and it all amounts to a charming interlude in your 
workaday life. (Feb.) 

■k DAWN PATROL, THE-Warners 

A -tirring drama of war in the air without a female in sight, this 
is continuously thrilling, stunningly photographed and logical, if 
tragic. Errol Flynn. David Niven. Basil Rathbone. Donald Crisp 
and a host of others build up a gallant picture of friendship and 
heroism that will have you thoughful — and thankful that Warners 
remade this picture. (Feb.) 

• DOWN ON THE FARM-20th Century-Fox 

Having attained the eminence of an A-rating, the Jones Family 
continue the attempt to catch Americana on the screen and succeed 
admirably. The family's divertissements on Aunt Ida's farm are 
enlivened by a cornhusking, an election and various country 
activities that should amuse you no end. (The cast is as usual.) 


For U ve the theater, this is a handsome and well- 

done piece of education. Luise Rainer and Paulette Goddard are 
the budding Bernhardts; Gale Sonderguard. Al.m Marshal. Lana 
Turner, Genevieve Tobin and other troupers lend able support. 
Laughter and perhaps a tear — and watch Goddard! (Feb.) 

DUKE OF WEST POINT, THE-Small-United Artists 

Gosh, do the cadets hate Louis Hayward, fresh out of Cam- 
bridge (England) — accent, physique and all. There is the usual 
to-do about a widowed mother, the big game, and The Girl (Joan 
Fontaine). Richard Carlson does some great work. (Feb.) 

EVERYBODY'S BABY-20th Century-Fox 

The Jones menage has a new member in this rollicking episode. 
A quack eeds to bring up the baby scientifically and 

the net results of this hygiene are that the new grandchild succeeds 
in getting the Family in a heck of a mess. The cast is the same as 
usual and good, too. (Feb.) 

FIVE OF A KIND— 20th Century-Fox 

One cannot help feeling that Mr. Zanuck is resting on Papa 
Dionne's laurels The five little Quints toddle about, squeal and 
sing cunningly; the story about a faked birth of MXtUpletS is stupid. 
Claire Trevor, Cesar Romero and (can Hersholt make up the cast. 


Hire J.e E. Brown is the leader of a troupe of actors who 
tangle with Leo Carrillo's South American banditti on a trailer trip 
to New York. Leo has his eyes on Steffi Duna, a dancer. Joe's 
attempts at suicide (to get insurance) will have you in a gale of 
laughter. (Feb.) 


A disappointingly heavy story of a poor sad girl (Anne Shirley) 
in a rich snobbish school. Nan (irey is the meanie. Noah Beery. Jr., 
apathetic plumber, Kenneth Howell the poet. Something 
slipped here. (Dec.) 

• GRAND ILLUSION-World Pictures 

Set in the grim background of German prison camps, this 
French film (with English subtitles) builds a tragically honest 
picture of the human side of war. Jean Gabin. Pierre Fresnay and 
■ Stroheim are only a few of the superb character delinea- 
tions. Fascinating. (Jan.) 

(Continued on page 97) 



ings You Her Crowning Triumph! 



Geraldine Fitzgerald • Ronald Reagan 
Henry Travers • Cora Witherspoon 

Screen Play by Casey Robinson • From the Play 
by George Emerson Brewer, Jr. and Bertram 
Bloch • Music by Max Steiner • A First National 
Picture • Presented by WARNER BROS. 


Never a story of love so exquisite! . . . She smiled 
at the cost, and bravely paid the reckoning 
when her heart's happy dancing was ended 

MARCH , 1939 


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"Three Smart Girls Grow Up" — Nan 
Grey, Deanna Durbin and Helen Parrish 
— and they've grown up wisely and 
well. If you follow their advice you'll 
find that beauty insurance pays 
dividends in freshness and charm 


CARoiy^ ^aa/ wyck 


Sjmr ■ 

— And Deanna Durbin. Nan Grey 
and Helen Parrish are smart enough 
to realize that now. while they are still 
in their teens, is the time to lay the 
foundation for beauty in their later 

These girls possess the natural, radiant 
beauty which youth alone gives. We all 
know that there's no substitute for the 
fresh, glowing skin, clear eyes, the grace 
and vibrant buoyant spirit which is the 
: il gift of youth; but we do know 
that it's never too soon to start protect- 
ing these vital gifts to beauty. 

At sixteen, your skin doesn't need 
waking up and the contour of your face 
and throat doesn't require a muscle 
tightener. A good night's rest wipes out 
every bit of fatigue. But at twenty-five 
and thirty, fatigue lines and those faint 
wrinkles that come after days of hard 
work and carelessness in beauty care 

take a good deal of coaxing, soothing 
treatment to obliterate. Beauty insur- 
ance starts at sixteen, so that it will still 
be yours at thirty. 

I watched the three girls play a scene 
on the set of "Three Smart Girls Grow 
Up" at Universal and noticed that even 
before the cameras they wore very little 
make-up. Naturalness was the keynote 
of their beauty and healthy gaiety. It's 
a smart young girl who knows that be- 
ing natural is her best bet at all times. 

"I don't use any make-up at all off 
screen. - ' Deanna told me seriously, "not 
even nail polish. There's plenty of time 
for that when I'm older." 

Nan Grey, being the oldest of the 
three, wears only the lightest brushing 
of lipstick, but she uses very good judg- 
ment in applying it so that it gives just 
a soft touch of color instead of a heavy 

Deanna's light-brown hair had lovely 

chestnut high lights. She told me that 
she very faithfully brushed her hair fifty 
strokes in the morning and fifty more at 
night with a good stiff brush. "It seems 
like a lot of trouble sometimes when 
I'm tired, but it's like any other habit 
you get into — it gets to be a part of your 
routine and no matter how much you 
may feel like skipping it, you keep right 
ahead doing it. Which is a good thing." 

It's extremely important for you, too, 
to get yourself into the habit of brush- 
ing your hair every day and into the 
right habits of exerc'se and living and 
thinking, so they'll stay with you all the 
days of your life. 

The hairdress Deanna wears is very 
simple — her hair is softly curled and 
fluffed out at the neck and behind the 
ears. Two or three little curls are pulled 
out at each temple to frame the face. 
Very simple and natural and much more 
becoming than an elaborate coiffure. 


LlKE Helen and Nan and all other 
smart young girls, Deanna knows that 
her health is important and follows the 
simplest exercise and diet rules to keep 

"I love to swim," she told me between 
scenes, "and I walk a great deal when 
I'm not working. And I'm crazy about 
bicycle riding, too. 

"Mother has one unfailing rule for 
me, though, and she insists that I ad- 
here to it strictly, no matter how busy 
I am. I have to rest for at least an hour 
every day, preferably in the late after- 
noon, whether I'm working or not." 

The value of that daily hour's rest 
can't be overemphasized, either for a 
movie star or for any other young girl. 
The habit of rest and relaxation formed 
at sixteen lays the foundation for poise 
and calm nerves at twenty-five or thirty 
— the basis of all beauty, charm and 
good health. 

"Let's have lunch." said Nan, "I'm 
starved. We all are." All three have 
very healthy appetites, but choose their 
food carefully and with a view to its 
proper value. Deanna adores carrots 
and said she ate them at almost every 
meal. Helen favors vegetable soup and 
Nan makes no secret of the fact that 
creamed spinach is one of her favorite 
stand-bys. With a lamb chop or a small 
steak, topped off by a fresh strawberry 
sundae, they lunched sanely and well. 
No wonder their skins are satin smooth 
at an age when so many girls are hav- 
ing skin difficulties because of unwise 
indulgence in sweets or heavy foods. 

It's easy, simple beauty insurance. 
Start it early and you will enjoy it late. 
You can be just as smart as they are and 
collect the same dividends — beauty, 
freshness, charm. 

More youth and beauty— i was 

so impressed by the sane beauty rules 
of the Three Smart Girls that when 1 
ran into seventeen-year-old Nancy 
Kelly at Twentieth Century-Fox the 
next day, I launched into the same dis- 
cussion of preserving your beauty while 
you still had it to preserve. Nancy plays 
Tyrone Power's wife in "Jesse James" 
and she, too, has definite ideas about 
keeping youthful freshness. 

"It's a tendency at seventeen, I think," 
she said, after due consideration, "to be 
careless of posture. It's so easy to 
slouch and lounge too much. Right now 
I'm slender enough, so it doesn't mat- 
ter, but it might be a different story 
five years from now 

"Because 1 think correct posture is 
one of the most important considera- 
tions in a woman's appearance, not only 
as to figure but effects on health as well, 
I've made a noble resolve to get the 
habit of keeping my tummy 'tucked in.' 
The fact that it's practically non-exist- 
ent now ought to encourage me to keep 
it that way." 

JEAN ROGERS listened attentively to 
Nancy's wise word nodded her head 
in complete agreement and added her 
contribution. "I believe that a limited 
beauty routine faithfully followed is 
the best way to keep beauty for life. 
It's certainly better than following 
some complicated regime for a few 
months and then getting bored with it 
and letting your grooming go haphaz- 
ardly for a while." 

Skin, hair and figure are all impor- 
tant. Jean said earnestly, and the thing 
to do is to figure out your minimum 
individual requirements and then let 
nothing entice you from your beauty 

path. "I wash my face thoroughly with 
a mild soap and give it several rinsings 
with iced water before going to bed. I 
do this no matter how late it is or how 
tired I am. Going to bed with powder 
and the day's accumulation of dust may 
not make a perceptible difference the 
following day, especially in your teens, 
but it's so easy to get that good habit of 
cleansing your skin thoroughly." 

I EARS of early care are essential to 
preserve the beauty and health of the 
average busy woman, since a girl's 
later years are usually very exacting 
and hectic, what with rushing off to 
the office, putting in a hard day's work 
and rushing home again to get ready 
for the evening's date. 

It's not too soon to start in the good 
work of preservation in your very early 
teens. You wash your face, of course, 
morning and night with a good soap 
and thoroughly rinse it afterwards. 
Applying a light conditioning cream 
several times a week will help preserve 
the youthful freshness of the skin. 

It's too soon for you to start using 
make-up, except perhaps a faint touch 
when you start your first evening par- 
ties. Thorough cleansing is the most 
important factor, along with a correct 
diet, to prevent the skin blemishes 
which sometimes trouble a young girl. 

From the ages of sixteen to twenty, 
a more studied routine is important. 
Cleansing cream is necessary morning 
and night and afterwards your skin 
should be washed well with soap and 
water to remove all traces of the cream. 
After you have rinsed your face with 
warm water, follow it up with cold. A 
skin stimulant or tonic is advisable if 
your skin shows a tendency to oiliness. 
A light foundation should be used, but 

your make-up should be applied very 
delicately and imperceptibly. 

Always use clean powder puffs to 
pat on your powder or take cotton pads 
so you can discard them afterwards. 
If you're using rouge, blend it care- 
fully so it won't be noticeably artificial 
and wield your lipstick with a light 
hand. A little mascara and eye shadow 
will enhance your appearance for eve- 
ning parties, but be discreet in the use 
of this, too. 

Remember that the keynote of your 
make-up and of your whole personality 
should be naturalness — no posing or 
artificiality of any kind should be su- 
perimposed upon the natural charm of 
youth. Remember, too, that in every- 
thing you do you're building towards 
years to come, so be sure that that 
foundation is carefully thought out and 
rigidly followed and you'll reap the 
benefit of all your care in the loveliness 
you'll carry on to later years. 

Odds and ends for the beauty- 
conscious— To soften your skin, 
have your beauty operator remove your 
make-up and apply a layer of cream 
to your face while you're under the 
hair dryer, as they do in desert resorts 
like Palm Springs, so the cream will 
soak in and combat the effect of the 
hot dry air beating upon your face from 
the dryer . . . Paint your smart metal 
necklaces with colorless nail polish so 
they won't tarnish or stain your neck 
... To keep your long nails from rip- 
ping through the ends of your gloves, 
turn the gloves inside out and paste 
little strips of adhesive tape over the 
tips of the fingers . . . Smooth a touch 
of cream into your lids before applying 
your eye shadow so that it will blend 
easier and be more lustrous. . . . 

% m cctf-t/omTw/lvM/fi ufxfL 

"You bet we do," girls say 

r ♦ down RUNS this w«Y . . 
Cot dov/n silk 

Runs come easUy ^.^ 

lo ses elasnaty. *»* LuX . 

ity of) «' stockiag 

College Junior 










y* 4 

so,a : y a V:» Tom m 

• W *.. . mv stocking 
the way " *'* P C , on9 er 
less often! 


, TrS BASY <o ? < f - 

everywhere- ck ings S" e 

sav . e s eU^y-« b ack 

und " *" kuns don", pop » 
too shape. Runs ulka h 

often! Soaps -»'*» ^ 

a„d cake-soap tubb'ng 

i,' S wh> <" i»'y "* D 

saves elasticity and cuts down RUNS 



Boos and Bouquets 

(Continued jrom page 4) 

Every woman is a law unto herself — women's sanitary needs 
differ on different days and what's best for another woman 
isn't necessarily right for you. But only you can tell which 
t> pe or combination meets yolk needs best . . . each day! 

So Kotex offers "All 4" types of sanitary protection^ 

Regular Kotex* Sanitary Napkins — in the familiar blue box. 

Junior Kotex* — in the green box. Somewhat narrower than Regular, for 
days when less protection is needed. 

Super Kotex* — in the brown box. No longer or wider than Regular, yet 
its extra absorbency provides extra protection. 

Fibs,* the Kotex Tampon — the new- in\ isible protection that's worn 
internal!) ; requires no pint or belt. Only Fibs are Quilted for greater safer) 
— greater ease of insertion — greater comfort in use. Recommended for 
the final da\s, particularly. *Tntt Mutt Ret. U. t. r*. c*. 



O up-to-the-minute movie fans this 
picture may be a bit stale, but to me 
fresh as a daisy — here are the 

When the characters have such au- 
dacity as in the movie. "Brother 
it's catching. I am at the college 
age and thrill at getting new angles in 
letting olT steam. Priscilla Lane and 
Wayne Morris were characters that 
every girl and boy dreams they, too, 
might be during their college days. 
They played their parts perfectly, so 
that wc, who can imagine ourselves 
playing their parts, spent a most enjoy- 
able two hours with our treasured 
dreams coming true. "Zany" is the best 
sobriquet I know for that would-be 
gentleman, Johnny Davis. He's plenty 
of laughs. Summed up, the picture cer- 
tainly had that certain yumph. 

"Brother Rat" also brought back 
cherished memories of a most interest- 
ing visit at Virginia Military Institute. 
Virginia Ricketts, 
Charlotte, N. C. 


HE public is aware that Nelson Eddy 
goes to some trouble to avoid the well- 
known autograph hounds. 

It was during the Los Angeles County 
Fair at Pomona that I received my first 
opportunity to see my favorite actor. 
The laud-speaker system in the grand- 
stand, usually before the races begin, 
announces the presence of some of the 
celebrities and requests that the public 
espect their wishes and refrain from 
bothering the stars. As a result of this 
courtesy, the actors feel free to attend 
such events and the public benefits by 
viewing various favorites in-the-real. 

With this in mind, I stood among the 
boxes and stared at Mr. Eddy. I de- 
bated just what to do under the cir- 
cumstances, realizing that this would 
probably be the only occasion I might 
have to secure his signature. There I 
remained, uncomfortable and doubtful, 
with my race program in my hand. 
People began to notice me and urge me 
to ask Mr. Eddy, but my embarrass- 
ment increased. 
Someone informed 
Mr. Eddy that I 
wanted his auto- 
graph. He re- 
marked that he 
had been watching 
me for twenty 
minutes, waiting 
for me to get up 
enough nerve to 
ask him. With 
these words of en- 
couragement and 
to the amusement 
of the crowd I 
stuttered out my 
request, which 
was granted. 
When Mr. Eddy 
passed me on the 
way out, he smiled, 
took my hand and 
said good-by, 
much to my hap- 
piness and satis- 

My experience 
proves beyond 
doubt that my fa- 
vorite isn't con- 
ceited and that his 
reasons for refus- 
ing such requests 
must have been 

because of possible mob violence. If 
approached in a reasonable manner, I 
am assured that Mr. Eddy and many of 
the other stars would feel more inclined 
to sign autographs. 

Evelyn Jowski, 
Los Angeles, Calif. 


lOUR Cal York's comments on Garbo 
are becoming increasingly obnoxious. 
Evidently the gentleman (?) has some 
personal grudge and it gratifies him to 
exercise it in his column. Garbo's re- 
turn may not interest him, but, to many 
of us, it is a long-awaited event. There 
are many pictures that I enjoy, but the 
only time I experience that thrill of 
anticipation is when a new Garbo pic- 
ture is due in town. And it hasn't di- 
minished one iota since that memorable 
day many years ago when I first saw 
"The Torrent." 

Martin Renner, 
Brooklyn, N. Y. 

I LIKE your magazine very much. It 
would be perfect except for the lack of 
two things. (1) A page for recipes and 
new ideas in entertaining. (2) Interior 
Decoration and the latest in furniture. 
Even though we can't live or entertain 
like the movie stars, we all enjoy read- 
ing about them. It makes them more 
human when we know their likes and 
dislikes in food, furniture, etc. 

I think the photography is excellent 
in Photoplay, especially for the Fash- 
ion Department. 

Mrs. Geo. R. Lutz, 
Oaklyn, N. J. 


IT'S absolutely priceless the way the 
Errol Flynns have preserved their mar- 
riage in the face of the thousands of 
rumors that have been circulated about 
them, while, on the other hand, a half- 
dozen so-called "perfect" Hollywood 
marriages have failed, such as the Har- 
mon Nelsons, the Richard Arlens, etc. 

On the surface there may have been 
some caure for doubt that this couple 
could survive. He. breath-takingly 
handsome, ad- 
dicted to the wan- 
derlust, independ- 
ent; she, vividly 
beautiful, sophis- 
ticated, glamorous 
and temperamen- 
tally unpredicta- 
ble. I say on the 
surface, for who 
knows what is un- 
derneath? Cer- 
tainly, I venture 
to say there is 
strength, both of 
mind and charac- 

The point seems 
to be that, in order 
to have your mar- 
riage succeed in 
Hollywood, have 
that town try to 
break it up via the 
printed and verbal 
route; that is, if 
you can take it! 
Three cheers for 
Mr. and Mrs. Er- 
rol Flynn — and all 
the best wishes in 
the world. 
Ellen Barkdull, 
Philadelphia, Pa. 

The domestic Gene Raymonds 
attend the showing of "Sub- 
marine Patrol," curious to see 
what a rival studio is doing 



Hum ' 

Priscilla Lane in "Yes, 
MyDarling Daughter" 

GRADE yourself five points for every 
one you guess right. If you get 
sixty or less, you don't keep up with 
Hollywood. If your score is eighty, you re 
doing quite well; and if you have a score of 
one hundred, you know as much as PHOTO- 
PLAY. Check up on page 78. 

I. In the World War he served in the 
British Intelligence and has written a spy 
story suggested by his experiences when he 
worked in Belgium behind the German lines: 

Basil Rathbone 

Donald Crisp 
Edward Arnold 

Lewis Stone 


ke of 

2. The starring role 
"Beau Ges-e wi 1 1 gc to: 

Leslie Howard John Garfield 

Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. Gary Cooper 

3. This glamour girl once starred as a 
hockey player at the University of Wa- 

Carole Lombard 
Dolores Costello 

Myrna Loy 
Ann Sothern 

4. In his return to the screen shortly, this 
actor will play a dual role: 
Louis Calhern Gavin Gordon 

Charles Chaplin Al Jolson 

5. Two of these stars are part Indian: 
Gale Page Wendy Barrie 

Mary Astor Ann Sheridan 

6. This screen star once managed Maxie 
Rosenbloom before the latter decided to 
turn actor; 

George Raft Mae West 

Humphrey Bogart Lynne Overman 

7. I ma Kid" he"! sing two num- 

ber, one in English and one in Spanish, 
accompanying hi — 3 eif en the 9- '3': 
Pat O'Brien Patric Knowles 

James Cagney Randolph Scott 

8. This actor wrote the famous song, "The 
World Is Waiting for the Sunrise": 

Ralph Morgan 
Eddie Albert 

Gene Lockhart 
Gene Autry 

9. This dramatic actress once had a job 
as a movie theater usher: 

Claire Trevor 
Frances Farmer 

Barbara Stanwyck 
Fay Bainter 

10. The National Speech Teachers Asso- 
ciation of Southern California awarded this 
actress a plaque for having the most beau- 
tiful speaking voice in Holly ■■ 

Irene Dunne Claudette Colbert 

Loretta Young Joan Crcwford 

II. For his role in "Broadway Cavalier' 
j had to learn how to milk a cow: 

Tony Martin 
Robert Taylor 

Wayne Morris 
Fred MacMurray 

12. This actor's fan mail has shown the 
biggest advance of any Hollywood star dur- 

Charles Boyer 
Robert Donat 

Tyrone Power 
Mickey Rooney 

13. He is one of Hollywood's most rabid 
camera fiends: 

Don Ameche Clark Gable 

Henry Fonda George Brent 

14. In "Plane No. 4" this actor will return 
to the screen: 

Wallace Ford John Mack Brown 

Richard Barthelmess Charlie Farrell 

15. Not Lewis Stone, but arc- 
played the Judge in the first : 
M-G-M's Judge Hardy series: 

Warner Baxter Lionel Barrymore 

Adolphe Menjou Edward Ellis 

Walter Connolly Edward Arnold 

16. Of these so-called "Screen Newcom- 
ers," one played in a number of films when 
a youngster: 

John Garfield Nancy Kelly 

Priscilla Lane Eddie Albert 

Jeffrey Lynn Louise Campbell 

17. According to an exhibitors' poll, Box- 
Office Oueen for the fourth successive year 
is blof 

Carole Lombard Jean Arthur 

Joan Bennett Madeleine Carroll 

Shirley Temple Bette Davis 

18. Of these movie "hea only 

an eligible bachelor: 

Melvyn Douglas Joel McCrea 

Robert Donat Ronald Colman 

John Garfield Richard Greene 

19. A member of a famous family has 
recently joined United Artists to work for 
Sam S 

Alfred Vanderbilt Patricia Ziegfeld 

Diana Barrymore Blythe 
John Jacob Astor James Roosevelt 

20. She was voted the nicest star to work 
oy Hollywood fan magazine photog- 

Alice Faye Joan Crawford 

Maureen O'Sullivan Bette Davis 
Virginia Bruce Norma Shearer 

Guests may not say so, but you'll read in their 
eyes admiration for your table and its gleaming 
silverplate. Yes. the hostess who chooses King 
Edward is happy— and budget-uise too. For the 
beauty of this gracious pattern is superbly 
matched by its value. But judge them both your- 
self. A lovely, useful Nut and Bonbon Server is 
specially priced at 20c to accpaaint you with the 
pattern. A?k for it wherever fine silverplate is 
sold — or mail the coupon today. 




National Silveb Company, 61 W. 23rd St.. New York, N. Y. 

Enclosed is 20c jor genuine King tduard Xut and Bonbon Ser. e, 754) 




A new Photoplay department — giving 
tips and advice hot from the Holly- 
wood lots — for all amateur movie- 
camera enthusiasts who want to buy, 
make and show their own home movies 


HE'S some technical advice from 
Hoi \prrts on how to 

makf better home movii I 

. tells 
us that one of the most pptfc— ble Bawfl 
in home movies is the lifting. 

The most common error in lighting is 
the failure to provide at least one "hard" 
source of light in shooting interior 
• s Ordinary bright incandescents 
and photofloods usually have frosted 
bulbs which give off a slightly diffused 
light. This "fuzzy" light, while excellent 
for the soft side of the picture, tails to 
throw the sharp-edged, distinct shadows 
which are so necessary in giving depth 
to the scene. It is imperative for good 
results to use at least one "hard" spot- 
light. Haller uses three spots and four 
floodlights in shooting his home movies 
in color, but the amateur using black and 
white film will not need this amount. 

Most effective way to use "hard" light 
is to place the spot at the thfee-quarter 
position, behind and slightly to one side 
of the camera. One or more photofloods 
can then be used to give roundness to 
the soft side of the subject; with one or 
more additiuual photofloods to light up 
the background and give the scene 
depth. For unusual effects, the spots 
can be used to illuminate the subject 
from directly above or below; and for 
high-lighting profile shots a spot can be 
directed from above or behind the sub- 
ject. The utility of spots can be greatly 


ui itoivc name 



increased by the use of adjustable 
shields to cut out undesirable portions 
of light. In shooting exterior scenes the 
same general rules should be followed, 
using the sun for the hard light and re- 
flectors or cardboard or metal for the 
soft illumination. The best time for 
shooting exteriors is mid-morning or 

From producer Mervyn LeRoy on the 
M-G-M lot comes solid advice on how 
to make the people in your home movies 
film most realistically. The easiest way 
to do this, according to producer LeRoy, 
is to give your people "natural" things 
to do — things they do in everyday life. 
Particularly should this method be used 
with children. Never make little Bob- 
bie do anything that doesn't seem logi- 
cal or easy to him. Ancther important 
thing is continuity. The action must be 
clearly understood by the audience. 

I HIS month's 16 mm. releases are many. 
Pathegram has a one reeler of the 
Dionne Quints called "A Day At Home," 
the only 16 mm. film of the Dionnes on 
the market. This company also has a 
new film of the geyser at Yellowstone 
called "Old Faithful." 

Castle, the leader in 16 mm. output, 
has a breath-taking short — "Snow 
Thrills" — of skiing, skating, tobogganing. 
Castle's "News Parade Of 1938" is al- 
ways its biggest and best picture. It 
covers every big event that happened 
in 1938. Also, with the World's Fair 
coming up in New York, you'll scoop 
your neighbors by showing them Cas- 
tle's "Preview Of World's Fair." For 
those interested in big-game hunting, 
Castle's latest is "Camera Thrills In 
Wildest Africa" and for lovers of milder 
thrills, a fine film called "Hawaii." 

HARRISON films are releasing for the 
home the seldom -seen foreign pictures 
of the last two years. Paul Strand's 
Mexican film, "The Wave," Rene Clair's 
"A Nous la Liberte," Hemingway's 
"The Spanish Earth." Also "Maedchen 
In Uniform" and "The Life and Loves 
of Beethoven." All these films can be 
rented at an amazingly low rate and a 
substantial cut in price will be made if 
you rent six films at one time. 

Garrison also has several Bob Bench- 
ley shorts, very excellent at $1.50 per 
reel. But we think their high-light pic- 
ture is one called "Death's Day," a film 
made from the beautiful "left over" 
shots from Sergei Eisenstein's, "Thun- 
der Over Mexico." 

Eastman Kodak, Gutlohn, Bell and 
Howell and Film Exchange have added 
to their tremendous stock of 16 mm. 
film this month. Eastman, as you know, 
adds new Disney shorts each month. 
Film Exchange has an unending supply 
of new comedies and short travel and 
dance subjects. 

As for new equipment, from Univer- 
sal Camera Corp. comes the announce- 
ment of a new low-priced 8 mm. camera 
series to be known as the World's Fair 
Cine 8 Cameras. Features of the new 
cameras will include a new type op- 
tical finder, a quick closing cover, which 
halves loading time, a new type gov- 
ernor to insure a long run of film at uni- 
form speed . . . General Electric ex- 
posure meters are now supplied with 
improved rapid calibration scales. . . . 

A new 1000-watt lamp, enabling 16 
mm. projectors to throw a larger pic- 
ture on the screen, will also soon be 
placed on the market by G. E. . . . 

A single-legged tripod is now out. You 
can get it from the Whitehall Specialty 
company in Chicago. Increasing the 
case of splicing, a new fountain pen Film 
Emulsion remover is now available. 










Sweetens the breath • . . 

keeps it sweeter long after! 

• There's 'nothing that adds to your self- confidence like knowing 
that your breath is sweet for critical close-ups! 

And it's so easy to keep your breath sweeter and fresher the 
pepsodent antiseptic way! Take just a moment, three times a day, 
to gargle and rinse your mouth with this golden, tangy-tasting 
liquid. Just swirl it around . . . rinse it out . . . and presto! . . . 
enjoy a new spick-and-span freshness! 

The best thing about pepsodent antiseptic is that you draw 
dividends from it long after you use it. Yes, pepsodent not only 
sweetens your breath . . . but in addition, helps keep it sweeter! 

breath Sweeter for Critical Close -ups ! 

"MistfP 1 

1. BECAUSE OF CHL0R-THYM01 Pepsodent 
Antiseptic kills germs in seconds even when 
diluted with 2 parts water. No other leading brand 
can truthfully say this! 

2. BECAUSE OF CHL0R-THYM0L tests show these 
results. Gargling with Pepsodent Antiseptic 
diluted with 2 parts of watet immediately reduces 
the bacterial count in the mouth by as much as 
97V, and that reduction still amounts in many 
cases to 80% after as long as 2 hours! No other 
leading brand can truthfully say this! 

3. BECAUSE OF CH10R-THYM0L Pepsodent 
Antiseptic makes your money go 3 times as far. 
When diluted with 2 pans of water, it is as 
effective as other leading advertised brands used 
full strength. No other leading brand can truth- 
fully say this! 




WELL, by gosh, there is at last some- 
thing in Hollywood that I don't un- 
derstand . . . here I thought I was 
the wonder girl, knowing all, comprehending all 
. . . but now I am stumped. . . . 

What's got me all mixed up is the way Twen- 
tieth Century-Fox is casting the most precious 
star on the screen . . . the darling of the whole 
world . . . the most unspoiled personality in 
pictures . . . Miss Shirley Temple. . . . 

The sheer accident of one personality and one 
studio getting together fascinates me, anyway, 
as it relates to a star's eventual success or fail- 
ure in Hollywood . . . for instance, nobody was 
deader than Spencer Tracy before Metro-Gold- 
wyn-Mayer signed him . . . not that Metro al- 
ways understands its people either . . . Hedy 
Lamarr had to go to Wanger's to get her chance 
. . . Twentieth Century -Fox has done a most 
magnificent job of handling and developing Ty- 
rone Power and Sonja Henie, Alice Faye and 
Don Ameche . . . but what has happened to 
that studio and Shirley? . . . Usually so smart, 
how have they become so mixed up in the han- 
dling of their greatest little star? .... 

Admittedly, Shirley Temple today isn't an 
easy problem of casting . . . she is getting into 
the awkward age . . . somehow or other a scene 
where she can do a tap dance or sing must be 
worked into all her scripts . . . but is it any 
harder to create such situations in a plausible 
way for Shirley than it is to work singing scenes 
into Deanna Durbin's pictures or skating rou- 
tines into Sonja Henie's? .... 

The appeal of Deanna Durbin is that we have 
been permitted to see her grow up . . . progressed 
with her, by way of pictures, through lots of 
growing girl problems . . . we have enjoyed the 
same kind of amusing-by-proxy experience 
with Andy Hardy . . . Andy buying his first 
tux down in Washington was as thrilling to us 
as to Andy . . . watching Andy take it from 
Virginia Weidler couldn't have been more fun to 
us if we had slapped his ears down ourselves . . . 
Deanna gets the benefit of leading men like 
Herbert Marshall and Melvyn Douglas . . . strong 
casts . . . real productions . . . but what of Shir- 

Here is my idea . . . we want her shown 
to us in such a real and human way that if we 
are old enough we can think of her as our own 
child and if we are young enough regard her as 
our friend . . . there must be human, natural, 
childish things for her to do . . . lovely modern 
child's stories for her to bring to us on the 
screen. . . . 

Shirley is a rich little girl now, to be sure, and 
an extraordinarily gifted one ... to get a story 
that is really like her takes a lot of doing . . . 
but suppose Twentieth Century gave her the 
problems of a rich child . . . she could still have 
tears and tempers and loves . . . think of young 
Gloria Vanderbilt, for example, routed around 
between her mother and her aunt, having to 
read her mother's court battles in the daily press 
. . . that kind of a story might be worked out 
for Shirley . . . even young heiresses cry when 
they lose their dogs, or get dragged into divorce 
proceedings between their parents, or get sent 
to the wrong school ... it seems to me there 
are so many things that Shirley could do, and 
beautifully . . . but there is danger if she is 
kept in that vaudeville-dancing-radio back- 
ground much longer, a world which so few chil- 
dren that any of us ever know inhabit . . . that 
would be a tragedy. . . . 

One exciting thing that has been happening in 
the movies lately . . . and very charming and 
about time it is, too ... is that a few groups of 
pictures are giving us the continuity of serials 



or comic strips . . . Deanna Durbin may bear 
different names in the different stories she ap- 
pears in but her producers have so completely 
wrapped those stories about her private person- 
ality that the central character is always just 
Deanna . . . the Hardy s and to some lesser ex- 
tent the Jones family grow before our eyes . . . 
we wish the Jones would grow a bit more . . . 
while love and other things are happening to 
Andy Hardy not a thing happens to Jack Jones, 
that is, in terms of maturity . . . personally I 
wish it could be worked out so that there would 
be a certain day or a certain month, say the fifth 
of March then the fifth of June, that you 
could set down in your date book as the night 
the Jones or the Hardys would be at your neigh- 
borhood theater. . . . 

Those families have become so much friends 
of mine that I should like to know just when I 
could see them. . . . 

And while I'm on that subject another hope- 

What's happening to Shirley Temple, Hollywood's 
greatest box-office star? She's reaching the awk- 
ward age, causing casting problems. Miss Water- 
bury makes some interesting suggestions on what 
might be done about Temple films of the future 

ful sign seems to me the fact that Hollywood is 
now recognizing the seasons . . . this year there 
were definite Christmas pictures . . . only two. 
I will admit, but at least a step in the right di- 
rection . . . "The Christmas Carol" and the re- 
issue of "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" 
. . . but up until now the only season that 
Hollywood has admitted existed (I suppose be- 
cause there aren't any four seasons in cinema- 
land) has been the football season . . . the bril- 
liant Zanuck has now come forth with "Ken- 
tucky," a horse epic ... I don't mean a Western 
. . . to time with the racing season (Hollywood 
knows about that, too, what with its love of the 
Santa Anita and the Hollywood tracks) . . . but 
I don't see why we shouldn't have special Easter 
pictures and some fine story about Thanksgiv- 
ing, though nothing about the Pilgrims and New 
England if I get my way about it, and all the 
other simple holidays that we average people 
celebrate with such fun, but which the movie 
producers seem to forget exist ... I think if 
the studios would get this much closer to us and 
our interests they wouldn't find us staying home 
so often of nights to listen to the radio. . . . 

I wonder if anyone but me has noticed that 
it seems to be an exclusive Hollywood fashion 
custom for the couples who go about together 
to dress alike . . . Taylor and Stanwyck pat- 
ronize the same tailor and have their coats and 
riding outfits cut to identical lines ... so did 
Crawford and Tone ... so do Gable and Lom- 
bard . . . almost every girl in Hollywood goes 
in for plain, masculine shirts, either of plain 
(Continued on page 86) 

MARCH , I 939 



V, ^ " 

gutter Girl..." 

JJorn in this old tenement. Raised on this dirty street. Me and my kid brother, 
just a couple of what you rich guys call gutter rats. But my heart's all right. It's 
clean and it's honest and it's true. Maybe I don't know big words and fancy 
stuff, but I know enough plain ones to tell him what I think of him, this polo 
playing good-for-nothing with all his soft talk and smooth ways and his heart 
all eaten up with the shame of what he and his millions have done to us . . . the 
one third of a nation he wouldn't dirty his gloves to touch . . ." 



Strong words, brave words and yet she loves 
this polo playing multi-millionaire — and he 
loves her — and their love story is drama as real, 
as human as the story of this girl's home — the 
New York slum, which bred the "Dead End 
Kids", the brutal background of "Street Scene". 

Harold Orlob presents 


•••one third 
of a nation 



Directed by DUDLEY MURPHY • Screen Play by 
Oliver H. P. Garrett • A PARAMOUNT RELEASE 

The "East Side Gang", the toughest bunch oj 
kids ever to braul their uay into your heart — 

MARCH, 1939 


i l/lO 

{((jlC FOR YOUR I'lMM ks 

7 ' ' Lu r 


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thai are beautifull) sill ered, and thai hai •• lasting loveliness. \t smart stores throughout the country . 






which he took himself, see next pages. 
Revealing notes and comments by RUTH WATERBURY) 

7 HIS whole story came about very innocent- 
ly. Last summer when Tyrone Power told 
me, as a great secret, that he was planning 
to take a vacation in South America, I asked him 
if he would keep a diary of his trip and give it to 
me for Photoplay. 

Tyrone kept faith, on both scores — that is, he 
did keep a diary and he did give it to me for 
Photoplay. He would do just that, because he 
is a swell guy who always lives up to his word. 
(A fairly unique combination in Hollywood, in- 

However — and, kiddies, what a big, romantic 
"however" that one turns out to be — between 
the time that Ty made that promise and his re- 
turn to the United States, reports on his South 
American journey became, for movie enthu- 
siasts, more interesting than any other movie 

story of the late winter, and hotter than a stove. 
The reason for this is very chic, very trim- 
legged and her name is — Annabella. 

It seems that Annabella turned up in South 
America (divorced the while from her former 
husband, Jean Murat), just at the time Tyrone 

Whether or not her being in Brazil when 
Ty was was prearranged cannot be told. Or 
more exactly, if you think that the only person 
who could tell (that is, our Mr. Power) has any 
intention of telling, then you might just as well 
go back to playing with your dolls, on account 
of you are too young and innocent to be reading 
Photoplay, anyhow. However, the Power diary 
given to you here is a record of those days and 
some of those dates, and there is such a thing as 
reading between the lines. 

For instance, below, in plain type, you will find 
Tyrone's diary just as he wrote it. In between 
those lines, you will find some notes I have put in. 
My reason for interpreting Mr. Power to you is 
because I am quite sure you will agree with me 
that he has left out most of the things his tre- 
mendous public wants to know. Which, as a mat- 
ter of fact, is both the sensitive and correct thing 
for him to do. Item one, he is too well-bred a 
young man to go bandying about a young lady's 
name in public, no matter how many questions 
he may be asked concerning her. Item two, he is 
too decent and modest a fellow to tell, for him- 
self, how the South American throngs mobbed 
him at every airport; how girls in absolute clus- 
ters tagged him through hot, sunny streets so 
that eventually all the police had to be called to 
rescue him. He feels, icith some justice, that if 


Here's once, at least, when the word "scoop" is no exaggeration— 
the most engrossing, wanderlust-provoking story of the new yea 



A/ 9/ty 

Shot of the Santa Maria volcano near Guatemala, from above clouds 

he were to set down these things, particularly for 
publication, that he would sound too much like 
a conceited prig. On the other hand, he regards 
crowds of autograph seekers neither as nuis- 
ances nor as something his due, but rather as 
pleasant people ichom he wants to be nice to in 
return for their liking him. 

Take, jor instance, the very first entry in Ty's 
diary. He writes: 


WE took off from Burbank Airport prepared 
for a seven-week vacation trip to South and 
Central America. Bill is going with me and he 
reports that our passports, tickets, luggage and 
cameras (we are taking three) are all safe in 
the plane. We've both been looking forward to 
this trip for so many years that I'm out of the 
world with excitement over our really starting. 

5 A. M: we're down in Mexicali. Bill and 
I step out of the plane for a cigarette and to 
stretch our legs. We get a shock from the cold. 
The airport thermometer registers 34°. What an 
amazing country. When we were last at this air- 
port six months back, it was 120 in the shade, 
if you could find any shade. 

9:30 A. M: we're down to refuel at Hermo- 
sillo, Mexico. Some of the children who greeted 
us here last time reappear. They happened to 
hear over the radio that we were on this plane, 
so they came down again to wish me luck on my 
trip, also to see if my Spanish had improved, I 

1:30 P. M: we arrive at our first planned stop, 
M.i/atlan. Stopped here because I was for- 
tunate enough to secure a lease on an island a 
few miles off the mainland and wanted to take 
pportunity to arrange for the construction 
of a shack, also to investigate or explore the 
nd for a suitable building site. 

Note, what Ty doesn't tell you is tliat Bill is 
Bill Gallagher, a tall, lanky chap icho is his best 
friend, his most loyal companion and officially 
his secretary He tags Ty around more faith- 
fully than his shadow and a lot more busily. 
Anything tiiat you might want to know about 
Monsieur Poirer. Bill knows — and doesn'i Cell. 

As for that island business, Ty definitely has 
a yen for islands. He undoubtedly will build a 
house on this particular island, since he has long 
been dreaming about just such a residence 
rrlierc he can get away from telephones, radios, 
and people and just lie in the sun and read. 

As he illustrates, bi/ his second diary entry, 
that's his idea of a really fine day. 


OPENT a glorious day fishing, swimming and 
climbing over every part of the island. So tired 
that after sundown we didn't do a thing but 
take a shower and go to bed. 


03T a contractor and a carpenter out to the 
island and discussed the type of shack I want 
built. The contractor unearthed an old well 
near by which solves the fresh water problem. 
Back to Mazatlan at noon where we had lunch 
and boarded the plane for Mexico City. 

Down at Guadalajara, Mexico, got our first 
taste of the type of reception that the people 
were to greet us with wherever we stopped. We 
could not imagine so many .people would be on 
hand to greet us. 

5:30 P. M: arrived Mexico City. Mr. Pierce, 
in charge of the Mexican Tourist Bureau, met us 
at the airport and, because of the crowd, ar- 
ranged a police escort to get us to our hotel. 

That last entry is a prize bit of understate- 
ment and get that "us" business. There were 
nearly a thousarid fans at each of those airports, 
of which 992 in each crowd were of the female 
sex and, if Bill got any looks, they were un- 
doubtedly dirty ones. Not that Bill isn't a dar- 
ling, and possessed of a way with the women, 
too, but anyone who goes anywhere with a 
movie star soon discovers himself becoming 
either invisible or hated. Maybe that's why he 
could give me such a graphic picture of what 
happened at that airport. Ty's technique at air- 
ports is to try to escape notice by walking 
around the tail of the ship. This didn't deceive 
the seiioritas, however. They yelled at Ty in 
Spanish and in English, loud and lovingly. They 
begged for his autograph, his kisses, his necktie 
and his handkerchief. After a moment or two, 
he capitulated and walked over to the fence 
tliat separates actual flying fields from the out- 
side world and, grinning at the throng, gave his 
autograph — and nothing else. At Mexico City. 
if Mr. Pierce hadn't got the police, Ty probably 
■ 'n't have got away irhole. As it was, he 
lost several buttons and the handkerchief. Not 
that it threw him off pace. Look at the scholarly 
reactions he went in for next day. 


OPENT the morning at the Museo Nacional with 
archaeological, natural history, anthropological 
and Mexican historical sections occupying our 
time. Most interesting. ("Editor's note: wow!) 

Took off for Guatemala City at 1:30. After 
flying above the clouds for three hours we 
swooped down on a little town called Tapachula, 
at the Guatemalan border. This town gave us 
our first real sample of tropical weather. Step- 
ping out of the plane was like walking into a 
steam bath. Grounded for an hour because of 
the fog. 

It finally lifted and let us go on to Gua- 
temala City. Mr. DesPortes, the American Am- 
bassador, met us and took us to the Legation 
where we met the other members of his famLy 
and staff. After dinner they took us for a tour 
of the city. 

It may be told now that Ty's trip which he had 
planned purely for pleasure actually worked it- 
self out into being a bit of a good-will mission, 
not alone for his studio, but for the entire mo- 
tion-picture business. Before he left Hollywood, 
Twentieth Century-Fox had arranged for him to 
visit the American Legations in each of the 
South and Central American countries he 

For Hollywood, as much as our own Govern- 
ment in Washington, has the wish to bring all 
the Americas closer together. 

Can you fancy a better good-will ambassador 
to the Americas than this handsome boy with 
his excellent manners, his keen intelligence 
and his genuine love of Hollywood and all 
its works? 


UUT of Guatemala City on a three-day tour of 
the surrounding country. Weird and wonderful 

The roads were crowded with Indians — men, 
women, children — all carrying tremendous bur- 
dens on their backs and heads. Our guide said 
the Mayan Indians often carry a load as heavy 
as 125 pounds on their backs for distances of as 
much as a hundred miles. Nice work and I 
hope I can't get it. 

Stopped for lunch in Antigua, the former 

An earthquake destroyed the city in 1775, 
creating ruins that are terrific and beautiful. 

The town is in a glorious setting anyhow, 
about five thousand feet above sea level, with 
three great volcanoes jutting up against the sky. 
After lunch we visited a coffee plantation. It 
certainly is a complicated process getting that 
coffee off the bush and into the breakfast nook. 
Thrilling drive back, over two mountains a 
mere 13,000 feet high, to a little village called 



OUNDAY and market day in Chichi. (Nobody 
bothers to call this place by its full name.) I 
purchased a Mayan coat that I'm going to use 
as a smoking jacket when I get home. 

We visited one of the churches, too. The In- 
dians have adapted their own gods to their 
adopted faith and it isn't unusual to see a statue 
of the Blessed Virgin dressed up in Indian gar- 
ments and sometimes carrying a mirror in her 

Visited the old Mayan ruins in the afternoon 
and were fortunate enough to see an Indian 
tribal dance. Grand stuff. 

Ty discovered in Chichi that Indians aren't 
movie fans. Not one of them recognized him, so 
he went around unmolested. He won't admit 
what a great relief this was — but Bill admits it — 
and soulfully. 


STARTED back to Guatemala City, driving 
over a road that had been cut through solid 
rock to a town called Solola on the shores of 
Laka Amatitlan. After lunch we continued to 
Guatemala City where I made an appearance at 
the local Fox theater. Spent the evening as a 
guest of the American Legation. Tonight ends 
the first week of»my vacation, the most exciting 
I've ever spent. 


LEFT at 8: 30 A. M. for Cristobal, coming down 
at San Salvador, Tegucigalpa, Honduras and 
Managua, Nicaragua en route. Because of bad 
weather missed the scheduled stop at San Jose, 
Costa Rica, and had to make an emergency 
landing at David, Panama. 

Pouring rain. Into Cristobal, finally, met the 
local press and had dinner at the Strangers 

After dinner drove over to the Canal and 
saw the locks. 


LEFT at 9: 00 A. M. for Guayaquil, Ecuador. 
Met Count Theo Rossi on the same plane. He's 
the Italian speedboat king and a grand fellow. 
He's headed for Rio, too, which is good news. 
Came down at Cali, Columbia, just before cross- 
ing the equator and the citizens turned up at 
(Continued on page 81) 

I. Joan Crawford's bridal gown is wrong on either of two counts 

2. Joan's hostess was at fault here, says Mrs. Post 

3. Connie should have told a white 


From our foremost authority on 
etiquette — a fascinating analysis 
of Hollywood's social blunders 


A RE movie manners mostly wrong? 
/ \ ret thought so, hut, after listen- 

/ \ [ng to Emily Post, foremost arbiter of 
good taste, whose blue book of "Etiquette" in 
r, has sold over eight \ 
thousand copies, I have definitely changed my 

use Hollywood has become, more and 
the model which America uses as the pat- 
tern for its own behavior, Photoplay persuaded 
U) give us a few much-needed point- 
ers, by explaining how Hollywood and its pic- 
err m the matter of good manners. 
Mrs. Post rightly feels that, during thi 
ten years, motion pictures have vastly improved. 
In sound effects, m photography, in stones and 
nd acting, but," she observes, "the ac- 


curacy of the society shots often appears to be 
neglected. We see drawing rooms so ridicu- 
lously large they can only be likened to the 
Grand Central Terminal. We hear conversa- 
tion that no one to the 'manor' born would 
dream of using." 

According to Mrs. Post, the worst offense 
committed against good manners is that of pre- 
tentiousness. She says, "Good manners are the 
outward expression of an inward grace. You 
can't get them any other way. Probably that is 
why Shirley Temple, in that very first feature 
picture of hers, had charm that few can equal." 

Sometimes the mistakes Hollywood makes are 
not too serious, but usually they are ludicrous, 
and far too often they set bad examples for mil- 
lions of ardent movie-goers. So, whether or not 
you think that your own manners or those of 
Hollywood could stand some improvement, we 
think it will pay you to hear what Mrs. Post has 
to say. 

TOR example, in 'The Cowboy and the Lady.' 
someone talks about the 'second butler.' Evi- 
dently the dialogue writers didn't stop to think 
that a butler is like the captain of a ship. There 
can be only one captain; likewise, there can be 
only one butler. You can have as many 
footmen as you wish, but only one 

"Incidentally, I think the best screen 
butlers are those played by Eric Blore 
and Alan Mowbray. And, granting due 
respect to William Powell, whom I con- 
sider a fine actor, no persons of position 
could employ a mustachioed butler. 

"Nor does a maid, like the one Lo- 
retta Young plays in 'Private Numbers,' 
wear her curls flying. She keeps her 
hair very short, smooth, neat. Besides, 
no lady's maid ever wears a cap and, 
unless she is obviously English, no wait- 
ress or parlor maid wears one." 

Mrs. Post paused for breath and I 
handed her a batch of stills and candid 
shots chosen at random from the files 
of Photoplay. She studied each, in 
turn. These were her criticisms. 

Number One was the wedding scene from 
"The Shining Hour." Mrs. Post said that Joan 
Crawford's bridal gown was wrong on either of 
two counts. 

"If this is her first marriage she ought not to 
be wearing colored flowers; a maiden should be 
dressed in pure white. On the other hand, if 
this is her second marriage, the colored flowers 
are appropriate, but her veil is out of place. 
Onlv at her first wedding may a bride wear a 

Number Two, also from "The Shining Hour," 
shows Miss Crawford drinking tea and balanc- 
ing a plate of cake upon her lap. 

Says Mrs. Post, "This is not the fault of Miss 
Crawford. When serving afternoon tea little 
individual tables should be placed next to the 
guests to hold plates or ash trays. The hostess 
who expects her guest to balance things on her 
knees should choose her friends in the circus 
rather than in society! Also, Miss Crawford 
was certainly made to appear inordinately hun- 
gry by the huge chunk of cake wished upon her. 
At tea time a hostess serves only the daintiest 
of sandwiches and cakes." 

Mrs. Post considers Constance Bennett one 
of the best-dressed women on the screen. 

•. Mrs. Zanuck commits a faux pas "■ s, 


"When she plays an actress she looks like an 
actress and when she plays a lady, she looks the 
part. But," emphasized Mrs. Post, "rather than 
seem as bored as she appears in Picture Number 
Three (see illustration), Miss Bennett would be 
far less rude if she composed a white lie and 
told her partner that she couldn't dance because 
she'd hurt her neck!" 

Number Four was a candid shot of Mr. and 
Mrs. Darryl Zanuck going to a preview. The 
spectators are dressed for midsummer weather 
and so is Mr. Zanuck: but Mrs. Zanuck, in con- 
trast to her light dress and open-toed sandals 
(which, Mrs. Post claims, are only suitable at a 
beach) is wearing a heavy white fox cape. 

"If the weather is hot," Mrs. Post said, "'heavy 
furs lose their beauty because of their distress- 
ing unsuitability. 

"Vulgar clothes are always those that are too 
elaborate for the occasion. I am told that at a 
California tennis tournament one important 
star wore ermine and another, a silver fox coat, 
while the general display of jewels would have 
dimmed those in the windows of Cartier. The 
well-bred woman does not wear too many 
jewels in public places, not only because public 
display is considered bad taste, but it is also an 
unfair temptation to a potential thief. 

"Riding habits, no matter whose, both on the 
screen and off, are always the test of tests. 
There is no halfway about them: they are right 
or they, like spelling, are completely wrong. 
Anything suggesting slant pockets, or eccentric 
cuffs or lapels, or a pinched-in waist is taboo. 
(Continued on page 95) 

12. Wrong for a "formal table" 

10. "Typically Hollywood" 


•second chance 

THERE is certainly something about Holly- 
wood which docs things to a person. But 
what 11 ctly, and why. is 

.is consomme with the can still 

around it. 

And it is on account of feeling kind of con- 
by all that has recently happened to me in 
the aforesaid atmosphere, that I have decided I 
would write the true story of it myself, instead 
of being rushed into giving any statement to the 
Of course, when the big news broke re- 
porters started swarming around me like spa- 
ghetti around a spoon — you know, hard to con- 
trol and practically impossible to get rid of. 
Miss La Tour, how did it happen'.'" 

"To think of Marie La Tour having such an 

"Couldn't you let me have an exclusive story? 
I sure used to admire you a lot in the silent 

The sob-sisters got in my hair pretty well, too. 
But the reporter who really decided me on 
writing this piece about myself was a little feller 
who didn't think I could hear him when he re- 
marked, "Cheest! And I thought she was dead!" 

The point is, I have not been dead but retired, 
although I admit that with some people it is 
hard to tell the difference: and this whole busi- 
ness began back on Long Island with me selling 
my show place. I called it a show place because 
if Jim, my late husband, hadn't bet both show 
and place on the last race he went to, why we 
would of built a more modest home. Well, any- 
ways. I decided to sell it because, after Jim died, 
it turned out that the house was about all he 
had left. And here I and Betty, my grand- 
daughter, were — rattling around in that enor- 
mous mansion all by ourselves except for eight 
or ten old friends from my vaudeville days who 
were at leisure. They were all grand people who 
would never of come down on me like that if 
they'd known I wasn't rich any more, because, 
you see, I and Jim used to help them out while 
times were good. And when times started to 
slip I kept the fact secret and went on helping. 
But at last both we and the house simply had 
to move. And it was then I got the idea of 
taking Betty out to Hollywood and trying to 
get her into pictures. 

I had just enough money on hand to travel 
with, so when we got an offer for the house I 
decided to go right along and leave the final 
winding up of things to Jack Jelliff. Although 
the house was up to its chimneys in mortgages, 
there would be enough change coming to me to 
keep us for three months, but I had to be deli- 
cate with JellifT about the deal, because he was 
an old and particularly clear friend who had 
been on the four-a-day until he broke a knee 
and couldn't hoof any more. Since then we had 
been giving him a little every month and I didn't 
want him to suspect how I stood because he 
lly needed it. 

"Jelliff," I told him in the grand manni 
will appreciate your help about the house and 
you a power of the dotted line, to close. 
There will be a little dough over, which you 
can send on to me." 

' ie." said Jack, blinking at me with those 
kind dog-eyes of his, "are you sure you're 
going to be all right out there? I hate to see 
you go without a man's protection. It's a regu- 
lar Judas-horncd-bctailmcnt to me!" he says, 
which was JellifT's strongest language. 

"After all my years in pictures?" I says lightly. 

"After all the years you ain't been in pic- 
tures''' he answers, troubled. "However. I sup- 
pose with your name and all your money you 
might get things your own way but . . . I'll miss 
you, Marie, and I'll do the best I can on your 

"You always did make smart deals, JellitT." I 
told him, which was the truth. "If you'd held 
hold of your money as easy as you grabbed it 
off, you'd be rich today!" 

"As long as I've got your friendship, Marie," 
he says, "I'm rich." 

WELL, it wasn't a week later before I was 
standing in a hotel w-indow looking down on 
Hollywood Boulevard while Betty pulled on a 
demitasse hat consisting of one wild rose tugging 
at an elastic leash. Betty, I thought, was cer- 
tainly different from other young girls, being a 
natural redhead and the henna rinse in it purely 
a matter of form. But aside from her beauty, 
Betty was different from the average because 
when a girl has been raised in a show place 
filled with show people, she is bound to have 
her rough corners rounded off smooth while 
young. And, though still of the age when their 
elders are generally objects of gentle pity, she 
was already wise to the fact that she did not 
know all the answers. And to crown every- 
thing, Betty was a wonderful, natural-born cook, 
which Gawd knows is a positive freak these 
days! What swing music is to some kids, the 
sound of something frying was to Betty. In- 
deed you might say she was kind of a Fritter- 

In fact, so far as I could see, Betty had about 
everything and she was as close to being my 
own baby as a grandchild can come, I having 
raised her by bottle and by hairbrush after my 
son and his wife were killed in that auto acci- 
dent. While the money lasted, I'd given her 
everything she'd asked for and she still didn't 
know how our finances stood, for I had always 
let Betty think her father left her provided for 
and told her not to bother her head with sordid 
details. Now, when she had finished with her 
hat, Betty came over and put an arm around 
my waist. 

"Hollywood!" she says looking down at the 
Boulevard. "It doesn't seem real! I'll bet it's 
changed a lot since you saw it last!" 

"Well," I says, "I've been seeing it in the 
newsreels for the past twenty years, so it's no 
more of a shock to me than the New York sky- 
line would be to a Kansas farmer. But you 
go on out and lap it up. Me, I'm going down 
to Goldmont and tell Al Goldringer what a 
lucky bird he is to be getting you!" 

"Okay, Gram!" she says excitedly. "Do you 
really think he'll test me? I know you're an 
old friend, but still " 

"He was- my producer on thirty pictures," I 
explained, "and I've always told him what he 
was to do!" Betty kissed me and went off, 

Well, I will say that when half an hour later 
I set out for Goldmont I felt as confident as a 
confidence man who knows he has a cinch setup. 
To begin with, Al Goldringer and I were- friends 
of long standing and plenty of sitting-pretty. 
He was the only executive left that I knew, out 
of the old crowd, but this single bet was, I fig- 
as good as it was lonesome. I knew Betty 

would get her chance as soon as I asked for it, 
but I hadn't written in advance because old 
friends can usually settle things fist to fist so 
much better. So I sailed into Goldmont with a 
grand manner and found myself at a desk that 
looked like the Fifty-sixth Street police station. 
When I asked for Al, the bull behind the win- 
dow hardly glanced at me, but went on scrib- 
bling notes and listening to telephones. 

"Mr. Goldringer isn't with us any more!" he 
says. Well, this, as you can imagine, stopped 
me for a moment. Then I asked who was filling 
Al's size number twelves? 

"Mr. Rossman," says the uniform. 

"Not Mr. Benny Rossman!" I denied emphat- 
ically. He just nodded and let it go at that. 
I could see at a glance that this doorman wasn't 
of a helpful nature and right then I needed help 
on account if I had one enemy in the world it 
was Benny. Years ago when Benny was nothing 
but a Broadway manager, and mighty mean to 
his chorus girls, what with giving them even 
less pay than clothes, and rehearsing them with- 
out salary, I was one of the ladies who formed 
the White Kittens, a kind of B. C. of the C. I. O. 
and we licked him with a strike and he chased 
me out of his office and always held it against 
me for reforming him, which in a way was only 
natural. He swore then he would never give 
me work in any production of his again, and 
he didn't either. Even after I became a star in 
the stillies he kept trying to get back at me and 
here I stood in his lobby and he in Al's shoes 
and what was I to do? 

Well finally I thought, as the 
poet says, "Time is the great 
heeler," so even if Benny is a 
heel, maybe Time has marched 
on it, and so forth. Beside 
which he was the only party in 
town I knew to speak to, even if 
we weren't speaking. So I went 
back to Bulldog Joe behind the 
cage and said I would like to see 
Mr. Rossman and that I was Miss 
Marie La Tour. Well, the name 
was just another Smith to the 
doorman, but by this time I had 
learned that in Hollywood the 
younger generation don't recall 
much and it is only in the East 
that we eclipsed stars still hold 
our public position. Out in 
Hollywood they are wise to the 
fact that a setting star is like a 
setting hen — they have both laid 
an egg. 

WELL anyways, it seemed Benny 
at least hadn't forgotten me, be- 
cause pretty soon the gate 
clicked and a secretary who 
looked so much like Sonja Henie 
that I figured she must have been 
made in Japan showed me into 
Benny's office where he was 
shuffling a pack of telephones. 

"Well, Miss La Tour!" says 
Benny. "What is the big idea 
of this visit?" I came right to the 

"A real big idea!" says I. "For 

the both of us to be big enough 

(Continued on page 87) 






warmly human story 
i gallant actress who 
ned stardom for the child 

loved — only to find 
price is still heartbreak 

I grabbed the brush away from Belty. 
"Try how it would go like this," I says. 
Betty looked kind of mortified, but at 
a curt word from Chris she stepped 
out and I ran through the scene 


4 J 

Second in a series of hilarious interviews in 
which stars play the old game of Truth and 
Consequences and answer with the absolute 
truth or pay a penalty devised by Photoplay. 
This time Katharine Hartley beards Claudette 
Colbert in her den and asks her some of the 
most impertinent questions ever put before a 
star. Like the good sport she is, Claudette 
answers fifty-three out of sixty. The other seven 
were too personal even for her, so she took the 
consequences, some of which are shown opposite 

1 . (Q) When did you ever keep a diary and 

what inspired it? 
(A) On my thirteenth birthday, September 
13th. I decided that as a record for pos- 
terity I would write down everything 
which happened to me so that after I 
was gone someone might write my 
biography. Nothing much happened, 
though, and I was too lazy to invent 
things, so I gave it up. 

2. (Q) When did you ever play hooky from any- 

(A) From high school, one spring day, but 
I was caught and suspended for three 

3. (Q) What subject as a topic of conversation 

usually holds the center of attention in 
your home? 
(A) My husband's work. 

4. (0) What aggravates you most in your work? 
(A) I hate buck passers and whenever one 

makes me the goat I get furious. 

5. (Q) In what personal situation have you ever 

"put on an act," and did you get away 
with it? 
(A) Once I met a producer who was looking 
for an English actress to play a part in 
his show. I pretended to be English 
and when he commented that my accent 
didn't seem very English, I explained 
that that was because I was from the 
Isle of Jersey and that people from 
there had only slight English accents 
because the Island was quite a distance 
off the coast of England. I thought I 
got away with it, but I afterwards dis- 
covered that I didn't. 

6. (0) Where do you keep "Oscar," the Acad- 

emy Award statuette which you won for 
"It Happened One Night?" 
(A) In the closet as a hat stand for my best 

7. (0) Do you believe that you honestly de- 

served it? 
(A) How do I know? 

(Continued on page 75) 





• 1 








y c 









--- ;/ 

Claudette crossed us up on this one. 
For reneging on Question No. 20, we 
asked to print a picture of her with- 
out make-up. Well, here she is — 
Lily Chauchoin, aged two and a half 




Impertinent is Question No. 49. Rather 
than answer, Claudette poses for a pub- 
licity picture as Nell, the Dead-Shot 

L /. 

L -r I 

audette ever re- 
to tears to get 
wn way, she's not 
ig. Punishment 
'uestion No. 42 — 
! a verse about 
lance being intro- 
d in "Midnight" 


by Claudette Colbert 

You need a Bonga* 
To dance La Conga — 
Right or wronga 
It makes you strong a! 

Another refusal — on Ques- 
tion No. 35 — gives us the 
right to show you the most 
unglamorous photo taken 
on one of her many trips 

Modesty forbids Claudette's answering Ques- 
tion No. 28. Consequence — write an essay of 
100 words or more and write it a la Bob Burns 

LOT of people have always said that if you're low all 
you need is a haircut. And I allow I think they're right. 
Now you take Smoky, for example. Smoky's my French 
poodle. He was a pretty tough hombre. He snarled an' 
snapped an' growled an' barked and it just seemed like as 
if he didn't like nobody. This was during the time that I had 
his hair cut so that he had poms on his tail and on his legs 
and I admit he did look a little bit sissy. So then what did I 
do— I got him a haircut! I got him a plain, good old-fash- 
ioned terrier haircut, and what happened? He became 
kindly, nice, well-mannered as all get-out. You might say 
charming. You see, before he had all those folderols taken 
off he was what you call a victim of a defense complex. He 
figured nobody liked him because he hated his haircut. When 
he got a real haircut he dropped the defense complex and 
turned out to be a right guy. As I always say there's noth- 
ing like a haircut. 

(* Bonga is a Cuban native drama) 

Not a man who walks alone. Rather 

a rare person who has learned the 
art of living at peace with himself 


UNTIL early last year Bella and Paul Muni 
lived in a ranch house out in the San 
ando Valley, and liked it. If they 
hadn't taken a notion to find themselves a sum- 
mer shack beside the sea, they'd still be living 
there and would have missed paradise. 

In the spring, they started h unting along the 
< for a small place where they might escape 

the heat of the valley summer. One day, when 
Muni happened not to be with them, a 
itate agent drove her husband through 
Palm Verdes. From below he glanced up to 
where a large house stood, white and solitary, 
on a hilltop. 

'What's that?" he asked idly. 

"It's been empty for several years. The own- 
er's dead and it's going to be auctioned off soon. 
Like to see it?" 

Muni shrugged. "What for? I'm not inter- 
ested in baronial halls." 

"As long as we're here, the view's worth a 

Whether it was accident or diabolic sales- 
manship doesn't matter. Muni looked at the 
view and was lost. Next day he took his wife 
out. She was influenced as much by his reac- 
tion to the place as by the place itself. 

"It's no summer shack," she offered tenta- 
tively. "We'll have to give up the ranch house 
and come here to live. It's a long drive in to 
the studio." 

He pulled his eyes back from the far horizon. 
"I want it." 

They put in their bid and got it. The place 
needed redecorating and relandscaping. Muni 
was making "Zola." So was Bella, for that 

"I'm that pesky wife," she says, "that nui- 
sance who sits on the set, that Muni woman." 
She sits there by request. It's not her husband 
alone who likes to have her there. The studio 
likes it, too. Her unobtrusive presence spells 
comfort to them as well as to the actor. 
They've found they can settle a hundred minor 
but necessary details by applying to her. 

She would take a couple of hours off at lunch 
time, race out to the house for a consultation 
with the workmen and race back. Three days 
after "Zola" was finished, they moved in. 

Living there is like living at the heart of 
peace, with sea and sky and gray-green hills 
as your neighbors. The central hall opens on 
a balcony that looks down over gay terraces 
and turquoise pool to the ocean lapping far be- 
low. Every window frames a different aspect 
of nature that changes with every hour. Be- 
hind the house, the hills billow softly to a sky 
line whose sweep toward infinity both uplifts 
the heart and sets it at rest. On clear days you 
can see Malibu and Catalina. "On very clear 
days," adds Muni gravely, "you can see China." 

He is eager as a child to share with visitors 
the enchantment of his surroundings. His en- 
thusiasm has been known to draw guests from 
the dinner table to watch the glory of a sunset, 
while the salad wilted. 

Mists veiled the sun and blotted out distance 
on the day I was there. Each time a watery 
beam struggled through, he'd lift his head 
hopefully. "Maybe the sun's coming out after 
all," he'd say, looking at his wife as if he half 
expected she could do something about it. 

TARTLY because of the quality of his acting, 
partly because he shrinks from the limelight, 
Muni threatens to become a legend during his 
lifetime. People are inclined to envision him 
as a man who walks alone and communes with 
the firmament. In a way, it's a commentary on 
our movie industry. Standards are such that 
an actor who acts becomes a phenomenon, to 
be regarded with awe. 

Muni, to use his wife's description, is a "plain 


He's as eager as a child to share 
with visitors the enchantment of his 
surroundings. Here he reads and 
works and tramps the hills with Simon, 
his Airedale (upper right). As for Bella 
Muni (right), it's her talent that 
smooths the routine of daily living 

guy," with a passion for doing to 
the farthest stretch of his capacity 
whatever he undertakes. If that 
be rare, then he's a rarity. In all 
other respects, he lives on a nor- 
mal human plane. The image of a 
somber Muni would be effectively 
dispelled if you had seen him ex- 
plain his refusal to take a drink by 
snapping his fingers in swingtime 
and caroling, ''I — got — a-cid, I — 
got a-cid — " 

It's not gaiety, but fuss and to- 
do and ceremony that he shuns. 
To be made the target of attention 
unnerves him. 

"Some people," he says, "are 
lucky enough to be able to main- 
tain their composure through fire 
and water; some aren't. I'm of the 
latter group. I'm easily distracted. An unfa- 
miliar noise, visitors on the set — they bore 
through here — at the back of my head. I'm not 
presenting myself as a sensitive flower. I'm 
telling you what happens. You may say I 
ought to be used to audiences. But the thea- 
ter's different. The audience stays out there, 
where it belongs. You stay on the stage, where 
you belong. The footlights are between you. 
On the set, there's no such tangible barrier. 
On the street, there's none at all. I don't stop 
to probe for psychological whys and where- 
fores. All I know is, I'm scared and I hide — " 
Wherever possible, Mrs. Muni acts as his bar- 
rier. She has merry eyes, a warm heart and 

a greater ability than his to cope with small 
vexations. Her talent for people smooths the 
routine of daily living, her sense of fun colors 
it. As always in the case of those few mar- 
riages made in heaven, you have only to see 
them together to be aware of the depth of 
understanding between them. There was a 
scene in "Pasteur" which made Mrs. Muni 
smile. Josephine Hutchinson, playing Madame 
Pasteur, reminds the scientist of how he pro- 
posed to her. "You said: 'There's nothing 
about me to attract a young girl's fancy, but 
those who have known me well have come to 
like me.' " When Muni asked Bella to marry 
him, he said: "I'm a very difficult person to 

get along with." She still doesn't know what 
he was talking about. 

She gave up acting to devote herself to his 
comfort, which remains her primary goal. 

Recently Rice, their chauffeur, came to her, 
looking troubled. "I been rackin' my brain, 
Miz Muni, an' I believe you better get some- 
body else to drive you. Then when the boss 
starts workin' I can take him in an' fix his 
breakfast at the studio an' kind of look after 

"That's fine. And who's going to look after 

"Well, I'm doin' no more than what you're 
(Continued on page 85) 


Found — o skating partner, young, handsome, as 
sure and swift as the ice queen herself, and 
the real reason she has taken up pair-skating 



^ '2 





THE situation rather slipped up on Hollywood. Of course, the 
sports columns may have mentioned it; still, when we 
ered in Hollywood's Polar Palace for the premiere of Sonja 
Henie's "Hollywood Ice Revue," the stars and other important 
people in their boxes and the rest of the crowd filling every avail- 
able seat in the house, few of us suspected a thing. . . . 

Not even when we noticed on our programs: "Number 15: 
tango, Miss Henie: music by Gade" and five significant words be- 
neath Sonja's name: "Assisted by Mr. Stewart Reburn." 

The show opened with a bang. The skaters were attractive and 
expert: their costumes beautiful; their performance unique and 
exciting. ' Sonja told me once that Hollywood is a "cold" audi- 
ence, but on this occasion enthusiasm ran high. It was a gala night. 

Smoothly, considering that this was a first performance, the pro- 
gram progressed — the winter fashions for 1939, two or three de- 
lightful novelties, Sonja's initial appearance — to the climax of 
the first part, her exquisite interpretation of Strauss' "Voices of 
Spring." We had also applauded three numbers of Part II before 
the announcer called our attention to the big news of the evening. 

"Ladies and gentlemen! For the first time in her life, in the 
next number, Sonja Henie will skate with a partner! Allow me 
to present her in a pair-skating tango with Mr. Stewart Reburn 
of Toronto, winner of countless Canadian championships and twice 
a member of the Canadian Olympic Skating Team!" 

The music changed to a rhythmic tapestry of singing strings and 
muffled drums. The spotlight focused an instant on the snow- 
banked performers' entrance, then carried into the center of that 
vast, frozen arena a thrilling spectacle — a dainty fairy in black 
sequins with a rose in her pale gold hair and a courtier, hand- 
some, sure, swift, as though the blades beneath his flying feet were 
the wings of Mercury! 

oONJA and a partner. Sonja, the greatest solo skater in the 
world, and a partner. That was news, indeed! For Sonja had 
never once skated with Jack Dunn, her program associate when 
she staged her first Hollywood revue. She had never skated with 

But now. . . . 

Onward the two of them swept, rhythmically, effortlessly, while 
we who watched, silenced at first by the sheer perfection of their 
performance, burst into applause at the youth of them, the charm 
of them, the grace which adorned each motion. Never were they 
two skaters paired. Always they were unity personified. Even 
when they separated, the illusion held. 

And at first, when the music ceased, we wouldn't let them go. 
We cheered until they came back — again and again. We couldn't 
let them go. They were so beautiful to see; so right together. 

And later, when the lights had come on and the overture for 
the next number was playing, the place buzzed with excitement. 
"Who is he — I mean, beside being Canadian champion?" "How 
did Sonja happen to choose him?" "Isn't he handsome?" "He'll 
be in the movies, next!" "I wonder if she likes him — personally, 
I mean." "Why is she skating with a partner after all this time?". 

Sonja, herself, answered most of those questions fifteen minutes 
later when I sought her out. backstage, and asked her. 

Backstage, incidentally, presented a strange sight, thronged as 
it was by the "Alice in Wonderland" participants — the Angry 



At the premiere of the new Ice Revue, Sonja Henieand Stewart Reburn, young Canadian champion, 
held their audience by the sheer perfection of their performance; but, when the act was over, all 
Hollywood buzzed with excitement over these two who were so beautiful to see, so right together 

Duchess, the King and Queen of Hearts and all 
the rest — and Sonja, instead of being shut away 
behind a certain door decorated with an electri- 
cally illuminated star, was watching what was 
going on in the arena, taking notes, giving direc- 
tions — a little doll of a girl whose dimples came 
and went, whose abbreviated costume made her 
look like a child, yet a personage whose voice 
carried the ring of authority and whose sugges- 
tions were canny and practical. 

OHE smiled when she saw me and beckoned 
me toward the star-adorned door. "You wanted 
to see me, yes?" she said, in that direct way she 
has. "Well, then, please come inside." 

"About young Mr. Reburn ..." I began, 
when we were seated in the makeshift but cosy 
little room. 

She laughed. "I thought perhaps it was 
'about young Mr. Reburn.' He is very hand- 
some, isn't he? And he skates like a dream. . . ." 

"How did you happen to decide on pair- 
skating after soloing for so long? And how did 
you happen to choose him? Would you like to 
have him in a movie with you? Where . . ." 
I was trying to improve my golden opportunity. 
I knew she would be called away soon. 

Again that silvery little laugh of hers. "May- 
be questions one at a time would be better," 
she suggested. "I decided upon pair-skating 
(Continued on page 78) 




I ADORE breakfast in bed, it's so decadent. 
Unfortunately I always have to have a cold 
or something. When I'm married I'll have a 
filmy bet! jacket and a butler who talks like Eric 
Blore to bring in the mail. 

This a. m. red 2 photos of my beloved Bette. 
a bid from Henry for ball game, and Barbara's 
respond daily since pops cut my 
phone quota down to 3 per day our bill having 
$18.64 Barb and I have Batfootedly re- 
to go to camp this summer, we not believ- 
ing in regimentation. We have adopted a new 

Hollywood, we are coining 
and say it every time we sacrifice a soda for the 
cause. B., being in love with Herb Marshall, is 
on diet again. He hasn't given her any en- 
couragement yet, though she wrote him 5 cute 
letters (composed by me). 

To be perfectly frank with myself, it isn't 
much of a cold. I put the thermometer in warm 
and added a couple of sniffles. Wanted 
to cut Eng. Lit. as Sour Puss has a mad on me 
and it's corny to be withered in an Eng. accent. 
She gave us an assignment to write a poem 
choosing any subject. I decided not to write 
about clouds or skylarks, because nowadays who 
what a skylark does in his spare time? I 
wrote 2 quatrains in iambic tetrapodies, closing 
with a rhymed couplet, just like Shakespeare: 

The Purser said we would have 
to go down to Third Cabin 
untilthemoneyarrived. B.says 
that's what makes commu- 
nists, having different classes 

I wish I had K. Hepburn's smile 
Marlene's legs or Myrna's charms 

I'd like to rest a little while 
In Gary Cooper's arms. 

A touch of Joan's simplicity, 

A flash of Greta's fire; 
If Gable once would look at me 

His eyes filled with desire. 

To have a week, a day, an hour of Heaven 
I'd give ten years of life . . . from sixty- 

She gave me an F. 

Barb wanted to write a sonnet but she can't 
write sonnets so I wrote a swelegant one for her 
and she gave me signatures of Spencer Tracy 
(fac-simile) and Claude Rains (sec'y.). We 
both thought it was simply terrific but she also 
got an F. 

My soul yearneth for a banana skyscraper. 
Maybe Barb will have sense enough to smuggle 
in some solid nourishment. 

Last night she saw "Jesse James" and told me 
the story. Tyrone Power plays some bandit or 
other who goes around shooting all over the 

She says it's a great Human Document but I 
can afford to miss it. 


nE have solved the problem! 

Hollywood, we are coming! 
Olivia de Havilland is sailing Sat. for The 
Coast and we are going with her. Naturally, 
she has no idea. Must get luggage labels today. 
Also some luggage. . . . 

S.S. President Cleveland 
3rd Class (temporarily) 

WE made it! Everybody was furious but us. 
We walked on board as if we were just ordinary 
fans. After getting the lay of the ship we went 
down to make ourselves comfortable under 
Olivia's bed but it was occupied by two girls 
and a man ... I mean under the bed was. We 
asked them to move over, but they refused, 
some fans being hogs. Then the gang burst in 
so we went to another cabin opposite where 
there was a suitcase labeled "Mr. Humphrey 
Watson, Hollywood." We rolled under the 
berth, Barb having difficulty with her hips. 

Finally Mr. W. came in and I concentrated on 
not sneezing. He opened his suitcase and went 
out again and we heard them cry "All Visitors 
Ashore." It was suffocating and B.'s chocolate 
almond bar got all crushed. Then a whistle 
blew and we felt the throb of the engine and the 
boat started moving. It was the thrillingest mo- 
ment of our lives. 

"There goes the sky line without us," said B. 
and then we both said "I hope we don't get sea 

I told Mac and Humph about 
the L.A.L. and the Unwritten 
Code. Barb, who had been with 
her Infant Prodigal, Joined us 

sick" so we made a wish. I 
bumped my funnybone and 
B. broke a shoulder strap. 
Then Mr. Watson came back 
and his ankles looked kind so 
we decided to throw our- 
selves on his mercy. We put 
our heads out and said "Par- 
don us," and he seemed sur- 
prised. His face was a cross 
between Laurel and Hardy 
so we felt sure he wouldn't 
make advances. 

I got out first and we hauled 
B. out and she was all red and 
had to borrow a safety pin for her shoulder 
strap. He seemed sympathetic so we told him 
all. He advised us to wire home first and then 
inform the Purser. 

There was a stunning officer in the wireless 
office so we took our time and we each wired 
for $500, which it seemed to me any parent 
would rather send than have their child put in 
the hold of a ship with rats and galleys for 19 
days on bread and bilge water. I said as much 
in the cable which cost $8. 

Then we went to Olivia's suite to get our suit- 
cases which we had got on board by addressing 
to her. A stoutish man with one chin more 
than necessary barred the way. Then we went 

ho w> -"l*" "J* *"d 

*ut , 


'" ^v;>ft 

ler life 

to the Purser and told him we had fallen asleep 
under the berth by mistake, and he said we 
would have to go down to Third Cabin until the 
money arrived. He was adamante, also firm. 

So here we are sitting on the bow, practically. 
It isn't nearly so nice as First, and Barb says 
that's what makes communists, having different 
classes. We are slightly depressed being stuck 
down here while all sorts of fascinating things 
are going on. B. says every time the engine 
heaves she feels like doing likewise, but I say 
every turn of the wheel brings us one step 
nearer our goal. That's the difference between 
an optimist (me) and a pessimist (Barb). 

Heavenly bliss! Stowaways, bound 
for the garden of their dreams — 
another hilarious chapter from 
the autobiography of Jane Lyons 


Hope the money arrives before dinner as the 
menu upstairs looked terrific. 

Ship's Log 

Second day out. A. M. 

Weather: super-swell 

HE now have a magnificent cabin on C deck, 
also our sea legs. Rented deck chairs on the 
Promenade Deck which looks like in pictures. 
The stewards wait on us as if we were of age and 
we are making "the most of what we yet may 
spend." (Omar Khayyam). Our parents hud- 
dled and cabled the Cap to give us a minimum 
rate Cabin in First to Havana and then send us 
back on the Oriente. We think they have acted 
rather smalL 

The story got around that we were de Havil- 
land fans and we didn't deny it. So they 
snapped us under her bed and this fat man who 
is a Publicity Person called Mac (because his 
name is Mac Something) is going to let the 
newspapers print the pictures without charge, 
which is rather decent. I'd give a quarter to see 
Vera Bailey's face when she sees them. 

We got our suitcases in time for dinner and 
asked the steward in the dining room if he could 
put us at a table with two interesting single men 
but he couldn't so we are at a table for six. the 
others being couples but not bad. After dinner 
went to smoking room where lots of people no- 
ticed us but no one had the courage to speak 
to us. We ordered creme de Menthe frappe 
and while we were sipping it a little page boy 
came with a note from Olivia inviting us to tea 
tomorrow! It's going to be a problem to decide 
which of us gets permanent possession of the 
note. Here comes bouillon. 

Ordered Oeuj a la Coq for breakfast which 
turned out to be soft-boiled egg, so I pretended 
I had known and ate it. 

Ship's Log 
After lunch 
Weather: dazzling 
Sea: super-blue 
Latitude: plenty 

I SIT for hours gazing out toward the horizon, 
and I think and think and don't know what to 
think about. "Water, water, everywhere" (An- 
cient Mariner). I would like to meet the cap- 
tain but he always seems to be at bridge, or on 
the bridge, or something. Last night we talked 
to Mr. Watson until after one. He is like that 
(business of fingers crossed. D'ya get what I 
mean?) with all the big stars and calls them by 
their first names to their faces. He is a pro- 
moter, which I suppose is something like a pro- 

Wnen he saw me writing he asked me what it 
was so I showed him parts of this chronicle and 
he said it showed I had talent and would make 
a good story for Deanna Durbin. 

Whenever he passes my chair he says 
(Continued on page 93) 


Before Kay's station wagon drove her off 
the studio grounds for the last time, she 
cleared up any misapprehensions regarding 
her retirement, her age and her marriage 





TO Bd 


r am 






CAN'T wait to be forgotten!" Kay Francis 

She was sitting in front of her dr< 
table, readying herself for the last shot of "Wom- 
en in the Wind" — her last picture on her con- 
It may be the Last picture she will ever 
make Yet all the resources of a big studio 
rahaled into action to keep her to 
[amorous figure she has always 

Today one of the top stars of the cinema. To- 

jiist another woman. And here was 

welcoming oblivion! 

"I can't wait to he forgotten!" she repeated. 

She had said much the same thing to me sev- 


eral months before. Other stars have announced 
their retirement and have made almost as many 
returns. Bing Crosby and Clark Gable both 
told me when their contracts were finished they 
would never sign another. But both of them 
re-signed before their pacts had even expired. 

I had listened politely and unbelievingly to 
first' outburst and had rejoined carelessly, 
"You still have three pictures to make. If one 
of them should turn out to be a smash hit War- 
ners or some other studio would offer you a new 
contract and you'd sign it." 

"You don't know baby," Kay had laughed. "I 
don't say I'll never make another picture be- 
cause if I should happen to be in Hollywood and 
some producer offered me a good part I'd jump 
at it. But as far as another contract or making 
a career of pictures any more is concerned, I'm 

And here she was, the last scene in her last 

picture about to be shot and still sticking to her 
guns. One of the three pictures had been a hitj 
she had been offered a new contract — and she 
had turned it down. 

"At least," I now offered, "it's nice that you're 
leaving at the height of your career." 

Many times have you heard of Kay's booming| 
laugh. It rang out now. 

"Don't kid me, darling," she said. "A yearl 
ago, yes. But not now. The parade is passing | 
me by — and I don't care." 

She spoke without bitterness. There was | 
nothing of the "sour grapes" quality in her voice. 

I recalled another conversation I had had 
with Kay long, long ago. She has had the repu- 
tation of being temperamental but, if she is, her 
outbursts have never taken the form of making 
things difficult for the studio. She has played in , 
an almost endless succession of pictures other 
(Continued on page 72) 

ajor production crisis oc- 
d when Mr. Gable didn't 
;o well to hoofing. In all his 
of acting, this was one 
that got his goat. For two 
behind a police-guarded 
Sable rehearsed his song- 
lance act while Hollywood 
'he time of its life kidding 
Worse blow of all to 
's sensitivity was a present 
Carole Lombard — a man- 
ballet skirt with "C.G." 
jly engraved in embroid- 
But trouper Gable, the 
n-dollar dare in mind, con- 
id his shyness and 
ged as a finished hoofer 

Norma Shearer (right, with 
Gable and Laura Hope 
Crews) was, on the other 
hand, the cameraman's de- 
light, since she wore her short 
ballet tights with a flourish. 
After the Gable impasse the 
plot proceeds nicely: a ho- 
telful of people are stranded 
during a war threat and the 
resultant episodes, both sad 
and glad, lead to a most in- 
spiring climax. It's a back 
seat for Broadway on this 
one, thinks Hollywood. All 
told, "Idiot's Delight" has not 
only a past — but a future 

. ?& 

*&*. 1 

U ' 


REPRESENTATIVE of a new trend in Hollj 
wood are these pictures of stars and the hi 
torical characters they have portrayed 
the screen. A perfectly filmed historical pictu: 
is usually considered a most spectacular feath< 
in a studio's production cap and Hollywood, wl 
always talks in superlatives, works in superb 
tives on a film of this type. Research depar 
ments, make-up men and technical advisors | 
into million-dollar huddles about the backgroun 

/-*! i„ D II J_ Ik 

. . . while Bet+e Davis is to bring to 
the Warners' screen the tragic life 
of Empress Carlotta in "Juarez" 


ie cast is hand-picked, usually by a top exec- 
tve himself, since the actor is the magnet that 
aws the money. On these two pages, we have 
esented pictures of historical characters and of 
e stars who have immortalized them in celluloid. 
» find out the "I.Q." of Hollywood casting ex- 
its, compare the pictures and decide whether 
>u think the chosen stars are "the type." If, 
ter a careful study, you're a "ves man" on 
scores — well, then, vou belong in Hollywood 

Historical photographs on this and 
the opposite page from Culver Service 


Cellini, as interpret- 
ed by Fredric March 








_^^H ^k 



1 Napoleon, personified 
by Charles Boyer 




Lincoln, as presented 
by Walter Huston 


Josie Mansfield, acted 

The "tweeds and pipe" type of leading 
man — Joel McCrea, known to wife Frances 
Dee, two small sons and most of Holly- 
wood as "a grand guy." Branding steers 
on his own Wild West ranch is his pas- 
time; roping in dollars for Paramount 
in "Union Pacific," his present business 

Coming attraction of "Wife, Husband 
and Friend," currently of "Kentucky" and 
veteran female foil of the cinema — Loretta 
Young, who checks up her assets as a 
pair of luminous eyes, years of foolproof 
film experience and one of the most 
photogenic faces in the industry 


, ,i\»,- tjf 



Above is Lily Chauchoin of Paris, 
who always tied her own hairbows — 
with typical Claudette Colbert com- 
petence. Left is "Lolly" Gainer, when 
she was training (unconsciously) for 
her career as Janet Gaynor by 
being the star Sunday-school actress 
of Philadelphia. At the right is 
a female heartbreaker, Hedwig, 
daughter of banker Kiesler of 
Vienna — Hollywood's Hedy Lamarr 



Twinkle, twinkle, little 
star — we'll bet you 
don't know who they are! 

Photoplay does a "proud parent" act on its Hollywood foster 
children and resurrects some baby pictures of the stars. At the 
top in the old swimmin' hole is Franchot, son of businessman 
Frank J. Tone, of Niagara Falls, N. Y., a daredevil, who, oddly 
enough, was given to writing "soft" poetry in his off moments. 
Right, top, is Myrna, freckled-faced daughter of the Williams 
family of Helena, Mont., when her only family responsibilities 
were two kittens. The film duties of "Mrs. Thin Man," per- 
fect American wife, were still far in the Loy future. Center 
is the grandson namesake of "Big Jim" Stewart, of Indiana, 
Penn., at the time when he was devouring huge bowls of oat- 
meal to the tune of "You don't want to look like a rail, do you?" 
At the right is a youngster who, contrary to his Pennsylvania 
Dutch ancestry, always wanted to go places fast. He accom- 
plished it at this time by means of a hobby horse hitched to 
the dining-room table in his grandparents' farmhouse. He's 
speeding along nicely today as Clark Gable. Bottom, opposite 
page, is another leader of the Helena, Mont, younger set, 
snapped at his favorite sport — fishing in the horse trough. Be- 
neath the Dutch bob (worn by maternal orders — it makes him 
blush today), he was busy plotting his career as a big-game 
hunter in Africa. He bagged big fame instead as Gary Cooper 






■ , 









A HOBBY I had in mind ever since I was a 
boy," is Victor McLaglen's description of his 
twelve-acre estate which lies in La Canada, 
foothill district near Pasadena, Cal. A most 
unusual home and a most fascinating enter- 
prise is Photoplay's impression of this model 
farm, unique even in Hollywood, where mil- 
lion-dollar enterprises are the custom. A pool 
and tennis court are necessary assets to any 
estate, but over and above those are these 
special McLaglen possessions: a menagerie of 
deer, kangaroos and honey bears; an aviary of 
500 rare birds; a pet collection of fourteen dogs 
and a cat family; jumbo frogs; guinea hens; 
farm stock, consisting of cows, pigs, turkeys, 
pheasant, mallard ducks, chickens and rabbits. 

The fine stock farm of thoroughbreds is un- 
usual, since the McLaglen horses are trained 
for jumping rather than racing. Completing 
the inventory of the estate are the smoke 
house, curing house, vegetable gardens, fruit 
orchards, dairies, barbecue gardens and gym- 
nasium. Most characteristic room of the house 
is the tack room, where are displayed the cups 
and ribbons won by Mrs. McLaglen and fif- 
teen-year-old daughter Sheila (lower left) 
and the trophies of Andrew (below), the six- 
foot-six son, who, at eighteen, is an inter- 
scholastic tennis champion. As for McLaglen 
himself, Photoplay pins the blue ribbon upon 
the star of RKO's "Gunga Din" in praise of a 
man who has the finest hobby of all — a home. 

f ■ 








' <"-**■ 


•^v ^. 


Mother Ann Whitehead 

Daughter Ida Lupino — mother Connie Lupino 

Daughter Mary Carlisle — mother Leona Carlisle 

Mother Anna MacDonald 

A good paint job sometimes makes 
a billion-dollar beauty, it's true, 
but in this case the mamas win 
over the make-up men — by a nose 

Daughter Anita Louise 

4 ^ 


ughter Jeanette MacDonald 

These pictures of some startling 
mother-daughter resemblances 
prove that often in Hollywood a 
gal's best double is her mother 

Mother Lela Rogers with 
daughter Singer Rogers 


A new type of movie quiz — a "picture" story t 
will take you back to your primer days. Like all g< 
fairy stories, it starts out, "Once upon a time . . 
The trick is to fill in the missing links of the story m 
motion-picture titles. Whenever a break in our st 
occurs, we have inserted a scene from a motion pict. 
If you can guess the title of each picture, you will h, 
when you are through, a complete storiette. We'll s 
the story for you: Once upon a time, a "Girl of 
Golden West" named "Zaza" was sent to a fash 
able .... You go on from there, following the n 
erals for sequence. If your memory fails you, tun 
page 85 and find out what happens to Our Hen 

A 3 to I bet tor fame in 1939 is 
Nancy Kelly, who, at seventeen, 
is starting a film career with three 
of Fox's juiciest roles. A 'find 
from Broadway, she was rushed by 
sponsor Zanuck into "Submarine 
Patrol." cast as Ty Power's wife 
in "Jesse James" and then given 
a female lead in "Tail Spin." 
With these three films now re- 
leased, she has proved herself one 
of the starlets of the season 


This killer-diller of the West 

tips you off to the latest antics 

and amours of the flicker folk 

When is Fun Funny 

JO AX DAVIS came over to the set where Alice 
Faye was working at 20th Century-Fox. ex- 
citedly holding two small bottles in her hand. 
''Look, Alice, I've just discovered the most mar- 
velous kind of new liquid lip rouge with a re- 
mover to go with it. It completely eliminates 
all of the messiness of the old kind. The only 
trouble with it is that it's so darned expensive — 
ten dollars for the set."' 

Alice tried the new rouge and waxed enthu- 
siastic. She promptly wanted to purchase some 
from Joan. Not having her bag with her she 
borrowed the ten dollars from Harry Joe 
Brown. Then she had a bright idea — to give 
each of the girls who had worked on the picture 
a set as a gift. 

So Alice called Joan back and asked that she 

Paulette Goddard, 
oncf runner-up in the 
"Scarlett" contest, cuts 
a fancy figure on the 
ice in her snug Tyrolean 
jacket and brief skirt 


order some additional sets and bring them over 
that afternoon. Joan, you see, had been very 
cagey as to where the cosmetics came from. 

That noon Alice lunched with her husband, 
Tony Martin, and, since Tony had forgotten his 
checkbook. Alice borrowed forty dollars from 
"Sugie," the genial host at the Tropics, to give 
Joan that afternoon, to pay for the lipstick. 
Then she invited her stand-in, the wardrobe 
girl, the script girl and Joan over to dinner 
where the gift presentation was to be made. 
After the festivities were over and all the new 
owners of the precious mysterious cosmetic had 
raved — Joan broke down. 

"Here's your fifty dollars back," she said to 
Alice. '"I was just gagging. Those sets aren't 
exclusive; I got them at the dime store." 

Hi There, Mayor: 

I HE Mayor of Van Nuys means business. I:. 
fact, when the good folk of that comn 
elected Andy Devine to office, they had n 
just how conscientious he would be. 

One day, Clark Gable and Phil Harris drove 
up to Andy's house, wearing wide-open grins 
and waving a ticket in the breeze. 

"Hi. Mayor." they called. "Come on out and 
fix us up. We got a speed ticket." 

hing doing." Andy cried. "You bums get 
a ticket in my town and you pay. That'll teach 
you not to speed on my streets." 

Clark gazed at Phil: Phil gazed at Clark— 
"By gosh, he's right," the boys said. "We should 
pay," and off they marched to pay their fines. 

Nowadays, if either culprit receives a ticket 
in Van Nuys he keeps it from the Mayor! 


SPRING in Hollyypod! Ah me, for a stroll 
down tba; celebrated Boulevard, sigh envious 
liti'ie fans from faraway cities. 

Sigh not, my pretties, for Cal has taken the 
stroll for you and here's the old lane all 
wrapped up in a small package for you. 

Hollywood Boulevard proper is about a mile 
and a half long, has forty-two beauty shops, a 
five-and-ten-cent bar, five places that guaran- 
tee to grow hair on your head, a bootblack in 
formal attire plus a high silk hat, five hermits 
n various stages of undress, tennis courts open 
all season, swank and cheapness elbow to elbow 
— and practically no movie stars in sight. 

Crawford Knocks on Garbo's Door 

WlTH an air of determination, Joan Crawford 
entered M-G-M's swanky dressing-room build- 
ing and turned down the hallway. Her steps be- 
gan to falter a trifle — and then she paused be- 
fore a door marked "Greta Garbo." 

For some minutes she hesitated, then, raising 
her hand, knocked on "the door." 

But a second later she was fleeing down the 
hall and out onto the lot like a deer. 

The Troc dripped with glamour the 
night Norma Shearer met up with 
Marlene Dietrich (she's here to estab- 
ish her American citizenship) and 
Hank Fonda at a dinner party 

N. \ 



J *cH 



r o, 





Also at the premiere — Producer Walter Wanger and Joan 
Bennett, stunning in white brocaded gown and fox wrap 



"I had an urge to greet Miss Garbo and tell her 
we were glad to have her back," Joan explained, 
"but suddenly I realized I couldn't say a word. 
So I ran." 

Who says there's no star worship among the 
stars of Hollywood? 

Shirley — You've Got Company 

I HE Mayor of Boston, on a recent trip to Holly- 
wood, called to pay his respects to Miss Temple. 
At luncheon Shirley ate a fat little muffin with 
only one quick glance in her mother's direction. 
The entree was a little slow in being served, so 
Shirley slyly reached for another without risk- 
ing a disapproving nod from Mother. 

The talk between Boston's mayor and Shirley 
went on at a great pace when suddenly Shirley, 
who dared not ignore Mama a third time, 
glanced up and reached out for a muffin. Her 
plump little hand stopped midway at the look 
cast her way by Mrs. Temple. 

''Oh, do you have to diet?" the Mayor asked. 

''Well, I just have to be careful, that's all," she 
smiled. And then added wistfully, "But I'm 

hungry all the time." 

* * * 

Visitor number two shall be nameless. A vet- 
eran of the World War, he began expressing his 
admiration for Shirley by mailing her medals, 
earned for bravery during the war. After each 
picture, a cherished medal would find its way 
to Shirley. 

And then a letter reached the Temples from 
the admirer stating he would be in Los Angeles 

for a visit and would love greeting Shirley. The 
letter, taking its usual course, reached Mrs. 
Temple several weeks later. Instantly a search 
of all Los Angeles hotels began. The admirer 
must be found and made to know Shirley had 
received his letter after he'd left home. 

He was finally located and brought to Shir- 
ley's dressing room. He proved to be a huge 
Irishman who posed quietly beside Shirley for 

'"Shirley, put your hand over on his sleeve," 
the photographer said. 

Shirley obeyed, but the picture proved any- 
thing but successful. 

The big Irishman seemed powerless to lift his 
eyes from the tiny little hand resting on his 

When he finally left, he presented to her his 
final gift. It was a Croix de guerre. 

Family Pride 

UlD you hear about my dad?" 

The eyes of Mickey Rooney shine with joy as 
he struts around the M-G-M lot with the ques- 
tion, "Did you hear about my dad, Joe Yule? 
He's making a picture. "Boy Trouble,' over at 
Paramount with Charles Ruggles and Mary Bo- 
land. Got the job all on his own, too. Now 
you're going to see some real acting." 

And Mickey, grin a mile wide, struts on to 
tell more friends about the dad who went from 
a Main Street burlesque house to movies with- 
out taking one bit of aid from his son. 

"All on his own," as Mickey says. 



'■W'f .*# 

Ghost House 

UP in Hollywood's beautiful Coldwater Canyon, 
where so many swanky new homes are being 
built these days, is a lovely but lonely house. 
No fire has ever warmed its hearth; no light 
has ever shown from its windows; no heart has 
ever called it home. It is empty and has been 
since it was built, eighteen months ago. 

Yet it was built to be a home — the home a 
grateful son had dreamed and planned for his 
mother. That son was George Raft and to tell 
the story of his ghost house in the canyon, you 
have to go back a long way . . . back to those 
days when George was a tough kid, hanging 
around gymnasiums and pool halls of East Side 
New York, heading, because there was no other 
way to go, toward no good end. 

Then came a certain day when his mother, 
the mother who had borne nine other children 
only to lose them all in death, took a hand in 
behalf of this last and only son. He should have 
his chance. 

There was to be a dancing contest. The prize 
was $50. George could dance; hadn't she taught 
him herself? She vowed that he should enter. 

"I can't. I haven't a partner." he told her. 

"I'll be your partner," she said. 

And she was. She fixed up a dress for her- 
self that stripped the years from her still lithe 
and supple body. She pressed George's best 
(and only) suit. She shined his shoes. And. on 
the Great Night, dressed to kill although they'd 
had scarcely enough to eat for supper, they 
entered the contest. 

(Continued on page 70) 

• THE BEACHCOMBER-Maytlower-Paramount TOPPER TAKES A TRIP-Hal Roach-United Artists 

S RSEI MAUGHAM wrote this original story 

with his usual brilliance and it's apparent that in- 
tellectual Charles Laughton appreciated what he 
had to work with. If you've a knack for translating 
veddy British accents, you will find much food for 
inner laughter here. It's the tale of an English 
beachcomber, which role Laughton plays superbly, 
and of two missionaries on a remote island. Laugh- 
ton is fanatically dissolute, the missionaries just as 
fanatically determined to reform him. Elsa Lan- 
chester, one of the Good Souls, mistakes his scorn of 
her charms for respect of her virtue and sets out 
to marry him. The climax comes during a fever 
epidemic. Miss Lanchester gives a best performance. 
Robert Newton and Tyrone Guthrie are good. 

TllORNE SMITH'S books about Topper were suc- 
cessful because, despite thin plot content, they were 
quite sophisticated. What with the Hays Office, Mr. 
Roach's second Topper feature has only whimsey 
left. Fine process photography has its novelty value, 
but after that the piece depends on Billie Burke's 
reading of gag lines. This time, the ghost of Marion 
Kerby — thoughtfully played by Connie Bennett — 
finds Topper (Roland Young, again) in trouble be- 
cause his wife is divorcing him and, furthermore, is 
playing about with a fortune-hunting baron, Alex- 
ander D'Arcy. Topper follows her to France and is 
heckled as well as helped by the importunate 
Connie. Of course, Billie Burke is still Mrs. Topper 
and Alan Mowbray is the butler, with little to do. 




HERE'S another American Document film, by the 
brothers Warner. It's a type of picture they do well, 
anyway, and this has the additional virtue of a good 
love story merged with the fascinating pictorial de- 
tails of the naval air service. John Payne is the 
hero, and nice in his clean-cut, casual way. In 
"Wings of the Navy" he plays George Brent's 
brother. Both have traditional Navy background 
and there has been a sort of friendly rivalry be- 
tween the two since childhood; Brent has become a 
flying ace and John, desirous of proving his mettle, 
leaves the submarine division and enters the gov- 
ernment flying school. Here George is an instructor 
and so fascinated by his work that he somewhat 

tt his fiancee, Olivia de Havilland. Woven 
through the educational reels which show the 
method of teaching cadets is the personal story of 
these three. John and Olivia, although Fighting 
Against It, find they were Meant For Each Other. 
John is then Noble, persuading Olivia to remain 
True Blue and Stick Through Thick and Thin. This 
she does, even when Brent crashes and is bedridden. 
The foregoing banal sequence is enlivened by the 
fact that George has designed an overpowered 
plane and that no test pilot will take it up because 
it has failed once, disastrously. John gives up a 

'1 Honolulu flight to make the test himself 

and then it is George's turn to make a sacrifice. It 

all sounds a little reminiscent, but it's done so well 

you'll believe in it. The thrills, crashes and stunt 

I lences are beautifully executed. 

flERE is a striking example of how one fine actress, 
given a censored and hackneyed story, can by sheer 
force of personality and finesse of portrayal create 
a picture worthy of your attention. 

"Zaza" in its original form, of course, is not 
presently suited for the audience whose morals the 
Hays Office so grimly protects. In its place you are 
allowed to follow the fortunes and misfortunes of a 
French musical comedy dancer when she falls in 
love with a man, discovers he is already a husband 
and father and gives him up. Claudette Colbert, 
with astonishing vitality, plays the gay, bawdy, un- 
tutored Zaza, giving the shorn role zest and humor. 
It is Herbert Marshall, a "swell" from Paris, whom 
she meets and loves while she is still doing the 
cancan (Hays version adaptable for Epworth 
League use) in a suburban theater. 

For several months they enjoy a passionate idyll 
and then the rumor that Marshall is married reaches 
Claudette. In fury she treks to Paris, visits his 
apartment and there is confronted by his child, 
delightfully played by Ann Todd. It is for her hap- 
piness that Claudette renounces her one great love. 
She goes on to eventual success and, when Mar- 
shall finally tries to come back, she finds the right 

Bert Lahr, with unsuspected dramatic talent, does 
a line job in the role of Zaza's theatrical manager. 
Helen Westley is good as the drunken foster-mother 
and Genevieve Tobin plays a catty chorus girl. The 
entire piece is expensively produced. 

I HE great personal story of John Barrymore's tran- 
sition from a young romantic star to a middle-aged 
dramatic star reaches its climax in this picture. He 
has never given a finer portrayal. In addition, the 
piece is directed with understanding and produced 
with simplicity; the supporting cast works smoothly 
and the story idea itself is not only original but 
creates an entertaining character study. You could 
ask little more from a motion picture. 

Barrymore plays a once brilliant historian who 
had worked himself to fame because of his wife's 
encouragement. But she is dead and he has be- 
come a drunken derelict, keeping himself and his 
two children by being a night watchman. The time 
is 1923; the New York ward bosses are going strong 
and prohibition is still a robust American entity. 
Barrymore's hero-worshipping children, jealous of 
their friends' fathers who are famous bosses, plot to 
get the old man into the papers again. They run 
away, find their way to a rich uncle's house and 
generally make things so hot that Barrymore finds 
no alternative but to rehabilitate himself. This is 
accomplished when it is discovered, on election day, 
that changes in the city have narrowed the popula- 
tion of the famous old 13th precinct to one voter; 
and that is Barrymore. And. historically, the other 
precincts always follow the lead of the 13th. You 
can see where this puts Barrymore- He is promised 
a job as school commissioner and incidentally falls 
in love with a schoolteacher, Katharine Alexander. 
Peter Holden and Virginia Weidler are the children. 


SMILING ALONG-20th Century-Fox 

IN England they pay Gracie Fields more money than 
any other star and when you see this British-made 
picture you will begin to understand why. The 
story, of course, is not purely for American con- 
sumption and thereby suffers somewhat, but try to 
stomach the desultory pace and the sequence dis- 
tortion for the value of Miss Fields' genius. In this 
picture you are regaled with the account of a show 
troupe, led by Fields, who find their manager is 
chiseling them and strike out for themselves. Roam- 
ing the countryside, they go from country to house- 
boats on the Thames to a fun-house, which is the 
climax. Gracie chants "The Holy City" with a choir, 
puts over swing in "Swing Your Way to Happiness" 
and generally has fun. So will you. 


UHARLIE CHAN'S newest adventure deserves 
special mention this time because it is the first since 
Warner Oland, immemorial Chan, died. Sidney 
Toler takes his place as the bland Chinese detective 
and he does not try to imitate Oland; rather, he has 
created Chan in his own fashion. The result is star- 
tlingly good. Chan is awaiting the birth of a grand- 
child when he hears there has been a murder on a 
ship. He goes aboard and finds that in addition to 
a body there are some pretty special passengers: a 
woman with S300,000 to deliver to the murdered 
man, a psychiatrist, the body's widow and any num- 
ber of other suspects. All we can say is, bring your 
smelling salts. You'll like Layne Tom, Jr. as Chan's 
"No. 5 son" and Claire Dodd as the widow. 


I HE Crosby pictures certainly maintain a standard 
of entertainment. This one is frothier than the very 
fine "Sing, You Sinners," but in its sphere is of 
high degree. The Bing has developed what we think 
should be called "Crosbian Humor," since it is 
purely individual: dry, happy and superbly mod- 
ern. This time he is a rich cowboy (gold-mines) 
who starts to marry Shirley Ross, (heiress) only to 
find her divorce isn't final. While she gets it in 
Paris he proceeds to their honeymoon castle and 
there meets delicious Franciska Gaal. who is a peas- 
ant girl and queen of the rose festival. He there- 
upon succumbs to her allure. Miss Ross returns to 
snatch him back but in the end Franciska triumphs. 
That one has sex with a smile; watch her. 



The Beachcomber The Great Man Votes 
They Made Me a Criminal Kentucky 

Paris Honeymoon Stand Up and Fight 

Wings of the Navy Zaza 


Charles Laughton in "The Beachcomber" 
Elsa Lanchester in "The Beachcomber" 

John Barrymore in "The Great Man Votes" 

Walter Brennan in "Kentucky" 

Sidney Toler in "Charlie Chan in Honolulu" 

Terry Kilburn in "A Christmas Carol" 

Bing Crosby in "Paris Honeymoon" 
Franciska Gaal in "Paris Hdneymoon" 

Gracie Fields in "Smiling Along" 

Robert Taylor in "Stand Up and Fight" 

John Garfield in "They Made Me a Criminal" 

Claudette Colbert in "Zaza" 


DY this time you may be pretty fed up with the 
Dead End Kids. You may feel, justifiably, that they 
have stopped being amusing and had better just 
have a bath and a good spanking. But here they 
are again, whining and irritating and slit-eyed, co- 
starring with Warners' new find, John Garfield. The 
picture is tailor-made and in it Garfield plays a 
fighter who is quite tough, at first. He doesn't like 
anybody and feels that the milk of human kindness 
is just so much sucker-juice. Then his racketeering 
in the ring catches up with him and he flees, penni- 
less, to a Western fruit ranch. The Dead End Kids 
are there. 

Slowly but surely, Garfield begins to regenerate: 
he sees the need of the boys for a champion and, 
when in the end it is necessary for him to risk his 
freedom for their sake, he does not hesitate. Rather, 
he sails in and puts up a fight (with a visiting 
boxer) that will go down in film annals. 

Garfield, of course, is an accomplished actor with 
the ability to adapt himself to almost any cinema 
circumstance. You believe in him as a fighter, just 
as you believe in him when he makes love to Ann 
Sheridan. Men of his type sometimes get over more 
sex implications than do matinee idols. 

You will like Claude Rains as the persistent de- 
tective who follows Garfield across the country and 
who eventually has to make the choice between his 
duty and a new-found admiration for John's new 
personality. There is no sentimentality in any 
phase of the story. 


THERE must be something about Bob Taylor that 
makes his studio go to extremes. He was a pretty 
boy for too long. Now, by golly, he's going to be 
a Right Guy to the hilt. Bob's bearing up well, as 
a matter of fact: you will understand when you see 
him in this roaring melodrama of America's early 
days. It's a good picture. The story is fast and 
well-knit, the production is great and there is plenty 
of action. 

The themes are so varied and so multiple it is 
hard to choose that one most important to the story- 
but it's all laid against a ructious background of 
rivalry between the old stagecoach tradition and 
the new railroads in early Maryland. Wallace Beery 
plays the rough-and-ready operator of the stage 
fine and gets some humor into the part. Taylor is 
cast as a proud young Southerner who loses his 
estate at the gaming tables, gets into a fight and is 
tossed into jail. Been.' buys his sentence and gets 
him for a work slave. Taylor pulls himself together, 
gets all muscled up as a result of his hard labor, 
works off his fine, beats up his boss and falls in 
love with Florence Rice. She is co-owner with her 
aunt, Helen Broderick. of Beery 's stages. 

Through this emotional melee runs the exciting 
story of slave running in an underground railway. 
Miss Broderick turns in her usual caustic perform- 
ance. Florence Rice looks lovely and Charles Bick- 
ford and Barton MacLane are the heavies. It's all 
great stuff, entertaining and sometimes powerful. 

(Continued on page 96) 



And was Mickey's face red when he 
had to appear in this get-up for 
"Huckleberry Finn" — what's worse, 
practical-joker Rooney was framed 

American history gets a boost and 
dictators a nose-thumbing as the 
movie lots buzz with rebellion and 
new picture thrills get under way 

HOLLYWOOD is beginning to talk back to 
the dictators. At the same time, the 
movies are going American in a big way. 

Almost everywhere we stop this month we 
find a cinematic Declaration of Independence 
brewing. There's a reason, of course. Amer- 
ican pictures are already banned in most dicta- 
tor countries. With no totalitarian profits to 
gain, why should Hollywood worry about totali- 
tarian prophets? 

"Idiot's Delight," set aside once by Musso- 
lini's imperial frown, heads the Metro-Goldwyn- 
Mayer line-up of new pictures in the make. 'The 
Forty Days of Musa Dagh," another verboten 
script, is being dusted off to shoot soon, whether 
Turkey likes it or not. Warners have "Concen- 
tration Camp" and "Confessions of a Nazi Spy" 
ready to roll any day. All the old taboo tale . 
including "It Can't Happen Here," are again 
creeping olT their shelves for consideration as 
the rebellion roars. 

It's quite an about-face, after all these years 
of headaches over what foreign Caesar will be 
offended and where. One of the main results is 
emphasis on motion pictures for Americans. 
Red-blooded native history is the order of the 
Hollywood day. 

Paramount's "Union Pacific," Warners' "Dodge 
City" and Walter Wanger's "Stagecoach" are 
just a few star-spangled screenplays we find 
being film fitted around the lots. 

"Idiot's Delight," at M-G-M, is really a pierc- 
ing indictment of war-mad nations. The Robert 
Sherwood play which, decorated with ultra- 
modern comedy, handed the Lunts so much fun 
on the stage, now is doing the same thing for 
Clark Gable and Norma Shearer, who take the 
laughable leads — Clark, as the hardboiled 
vaudeville hoofer; Norma, as the acrobat turned 
phony countess. 

We're lucky enough to cut in on the climax 
of a running rib on Clark Gable the day we visit 
the set. All his Hollywood pals — and Carole 
Lombard — have been making life miserable for 
him ever since they learned he had to do a soft 
shoe dance in front of a chorus of barelegged 

Carole had sent him a ballet costume just the 
day before and the wisecracks have so ganged 
up on Clark that, right now, ready to go into 
the dance he's* been preping for ages, he is fit 
to be tied. 

We've never seen Clark so jittery as he is now, 
done up in a tight striped theatrical suit and 
with a wide straw hat cocked on his head. The 
beautiful chorus babes surround him in the 
wings of a striking lobby set where Norma 
Shearer, in a straight blonde wig and a cigarette 
holder a yard long, sits with Edward Arnold, Pat 
Paterson, Charles Coburn and the rest of the 
cast. They're whispering and grinning expect- 
antly and Clark knows it. His debut as a hoofer 


«' 1 • n,..., ..m 



fefl 1 


=r fl 




It had to happen— and it'd 
better be good — Charlie Mc- 
Carthy, Edgar Bergen and 
W. C. Fields square off old 
scores in Universal'* "You 
Can't Cheat an Honest Man" 






ias been billed in advance. Half M-G-M is on 
ie side lines. Clark looks very, very unhappy. 

Director Clarence Brown's "Let's rehearse 
t!" starts a record playing "Puttin' on the Ritz," 
nd the barelegged chorines bounce into a time- 
tep. Wearing the most sheepish grin, Clark 
;rabs his cane and struts out onto the lobby 
loor. Everybody cheers! 

We're no expert on eccentric terpsichore, but 
he boy isn't bad at all. He twists and wiggles 
nd bucks wings before the line of kicking legs, 
fever before in his life did he-man Gable do 
ance steps like these. 

Of course, he muffs the routine the first time, 
nd the next, and the next. The chorines have 
t down perfect, naturally, which burns Clark. 
I can't learn it in two months," he explodes, 
and you kids pick it up in ten minutes! Gosh, 
iut I'm dumb!" 

But in a minute his embarrassment wears off 
ind the Gable snappy dance routine is a per- 
ect take. 

"Okay," shouts Brown. Then the deluge! 
Howers fly out at Clark's feet from Carole, from 
everybody he knows. Messengers arrive with 
:ongratulatory telegrams. You'd think he'd just 
won an election. 

Clark doesn't mind the gags a bit — just wipes 
tiis perspiring brow and grins. So will you 
ivhen you see him doing the dipsy-doo. 

There's another major embarrassment going 







"Three Smart Girls" made a star of one smart girl. That's why Deanna Durbin listens so 
attentively to Director Koster's instructions for the sequel, "Three Smart Girls Grow Up" 


on next door on (ho "Huckleberry Fii 
where Mickey Rooney is bringing to life Mark 
n's little Mississippi River roughneck. 
They're trying to dresa Mickey up La ■ long 
r Hubbard and ■ luiibonnet and Mickey 
i.s kicking like a mule. 

It's the scene where the runaway Huck steals 

Into town disguised as ;i gill to unravel the 
ry of Nigger Jim, if you remember your 

Huckleberry Finn. We arrive just as Richard 

Thorpe, the director, is attempting to get the 
feminine rig on Mickey. William Frawley, 
Walter Connolly and Elizabeth Risdon think it's 
very funny, but .Mickey (they call him "Mickey 
Finn" on the set now)'t worried about their 
chuckles. He blurts out his real woe. 

"Okay," grumbles Mickey, "I'll wear the darn 
But you've got to promise not to let Judy 
Garland on the set. If she sees me in this, my 
reputation is mini 

While Mickey stews, a little mutt dog looks 
up wondering what it's all about. He's "Hobo," 
the only mutt ever to crash the movies. When 
the company was on location. Hobo, who be- 
longs to a Chinaman, accidentally strayed into 
several scenes. They didn't discover it until, 
back in Hollywood, the rushes showed up the 
canine lens crasher. Then they had to send for 
Hobo, write in a part for him and hand him a 

We watch Mickey Finn mince through his 
scene, squeaking in a girlish treble, "Oh, sir, 
don't make sport of a poor little girl!" It's hard 
for us to keep from spoiling the scene with a 
snicker. When it's done, Mickey rips off the 
sunbonnet and slams it on the floor. Then a 
duet of feminine laughter peals out. Mickey 
whirls as if a bee had drilled him. 

Cecilia Parker and Judy Garland, doubled up 
with laughter, are pointing at Mickey. They've 
been hiding through it all, watching. 

"Oh. Mickey," bubbles Judy, "you look so 

"Aw, gosh," grunts Mickey, supremely dis- 
gusted. "Framed!" 




Ready for the races at Santa Anita. Claudette Colbert, now appearing 
in Paramount's "Zaza," wears a contrast suit of vivid green, red and 
blue plaid and black woolen selected from Saks Fifth Avenue, Beverly 
Hills. Claudette combines it with a cashmere sweater, a tricky felt 
hat designed by Robert Galer of Hollywood and suede accessories. 
We photographed Claudette in the garden of her Beverly Hills estate 


"Broadway Serenade" is our next M-G-M 
set. It's the picture that pairs Jeanette Mac- 
Donald with Lew Ayres romantically, the big- 
gest step yet on Lew's sensational comeback 
trail. With Jeanette around, you might guess 
it has something to do with music. She's a 
singer who rockets to fame while husband Lew 
remains a poor composer. Oddly enough, Lew 
Ayres actually is a composer, with a symphony 
suite to his credit. 

It's a tearful "parting is such sweet sorrow" 
scene we happen in on and when it comes to 
love-making Lew is there. In fact, after the 
third or fourth tearful farewell embrace, in the 
little theatrical boardinghouse set, the electri- 
cian makes a routine query. "Any kicks?" he 
cries. He's really talking to the cameraman and 

what he means is — are there any kicks of light 
in the camera lens? Jeanette answers him, 
laughing merrily. "No," she says, looking at 
Lew, "absolutely no kicks!" Which makes it 

At Paramount, Cecil B. De Mille, the youngest 
looking old-timer in the business, has finally 
got steam up on his latest epic of Americana, 
"Union Pacific." After "The Plainsman" and 
"Buccaneer," De Mille rates our medal for the 
number one glorifier of American rough-and- 
ready days. We'll pick him, too, for the best 
personal showman in Hollywood. He's the last 
of the glamorous puttee and riding pants direc- 
tors. Whenever De Mille shoots you get the im- 
pression, somehow, that the whole Paramount 
lot exists for nothing else but De Mille and his 

"Union Pacific" tells the familiar drama of the 
first transcontinental railroad. The love story, 
played against this background, is between Bar- 
bara Stanwyck and Joel McCrea. Barbara, in 
her first De Mille picture, confesses to us she's 
more excited about her job than she's ever been 
in her life. 

The Union Pacific Limited which Paramount's 
set-builders have whipped up is split through 
the middle like a watermelon — topless and side- 

In the scene we witness the red plush seats 
are crowded with noisy card sharpers in flashy 
vests and raucous filles de joie, rouged and 
powdered, all headed for the easy gold of the 
railroad camp. 

Among them sits Barbara, talking to Robert 
Preston, a handsome new Paramount leading 
man. Army rifles decorate the coach wall — for 
Indians. A sign over them, old and yellowed, 
warns: "Do not shoot buffalo from the train!" 
Well, we've never seen any buffalo on the Para- 
mount lot, but you never can tell! 

SOMEDAY soon, we hope, Claudette Colbert 
will come back to these United States and stick 
around, cinematically speaking. Seems like 
she's been in Paris so many times lately — "I Met 
Him in Paris," "Tovarich," and "Zaza." 

"Midnight," her latest, goes on there, too, this 
time in a very elegant French chateau at Ver- 
sailles where we find Claudette, John Barry- 
(Continued on page 83) 

With red-corpuscled native his- 
tory the order of the day, Joel 
McCrea and Babs Stanwyck help 
glorify the first transconti- 
nental railroad in C. B. De Mille's 
production, "Union Pacific" 

•> i 

. . . diaphanous gowns of chiffon gloriously tinted in floral 
hues. Fuchsia, violet and orchid exquisitely combine in the 
striped model (left) worn by Joan Valerie; graduated tones of 
cyclamen in the quaint camisole gown (right) posed by Jean 
Rogers. Designed for sweet slumber, their chic styling allows 
them to masquerade as party gowns. They may be purchased 
at the Saks Fifth Avenue shops in Beverly Hills, Chicago and 
New York. MissValerieisappearing in "Kentucky," Miss Rogers 
'■-, "Whilo Now York SlaatM " both Twentieth Centurv-Fox films 

A buttercup yellow gown (left) high-lighted 
by a corsage and coiffure clip of Talisman 
roses; a forget-me-not blue one (above) with 
matching opalescent embroidered jacket con- 
trasted by a corsage of pink roses. Both 
gowns have shirred bodices, waistline yokes, 
flowing skirts and taffeta slips that softly 
murmur when in motion — both are worn by 
petite, dark and beautiful Maureen O'Sulli- 
van, M-G-M star, who is appearing in Colum- 
bia's "Let Us Live." Miss O'Sullivan's evening 
gowns were created by Lilyan Graves, Los 
Angeles; corsages by Halchester, Hollywood 

It's the season again for 
dressmaker ensembles. Pris- 
cilla Lane, whose newest film 
for Warner Brothers is "Yes, 
My Darling Daughter," selects 
one of printed and plain On- 
ondaga crepe in classic black 
and white. The coat has tux- 
edo panels of white splashed 
with black posies — the print 
that fashions the tailored 
frock beneath. Additional 
smart style details are the 
front and back bloused panels 
and belt of reverse print. 
Priscilla repeats the black 
and white theme in her tiny 
straw sailor. This ensemble 
is on display at J. W. Rob- 
inson, Los Angeles; Franklin 
Simon's, New York; Carson 
Pirie Scott & Co., Chicago 







iiV. sana 

Olivia de Havilland, who'll next be seen in Warners' Technicolor 
production, "Dodge City," chooses a dressmaker suit of navy 
woolen individualized by jacket trim and blouse of tie silk boldly 
striped in navy and white. Note the broad shoulders and loose, 
flaring lines of the jacket, the drawstring neckline of the blouse. 
This suit and the matching fabric chapeau were selected from Saks 
Fifth Avenue, Beverly Hills. Add gay and colorful hats to your 
basic spring frock. A yarn sailor (center), candy-striped in cyclamen 
and white, worn with cyclamen gloves. A high-crown maize-col- 
ored panama (bottom) with band and bows of navy French taffeta 
ribbon embroidered in bright hues and, of course, a snood. Both 
Francois chapeaux by Frank Borel. Worn with her sailor, Olivia's 
basic one-piece frock of navy crepe, from Saks Fifth Avenue, Bev- 
erly Hills, has interesting hand-fagot detail on blouse and sleeves 

Rita Hayworth (above) wears a one-piece frock 
of beige sheer woolen selected from Saks Fifth 
Avenue, Beverly Hills. Scallops join the blouse 
and skirt to a snug waistline inset of match- 
ing crepe; the scallops on the skirt release 
into ten gores that flow into a flaring hemline. 
Rita's luxurious coat of Safari brown Alaska 
sealskin (left), with broad shoulders, roomy 
sleeves and collarless neckline, was designed by 
Willard George of Los Angeles. "Voyageur," 
her Knox hat of fuchsia felt, is styled with 
rakish brim and planed-off crown pierced with 
a green link pin to repeat color of the crown 
band. Rita found this newest Knox hat at 
the J. W. Robinson Company, Los Angeles. 
It is also on display at the White House, San 
Francisco; Marshall Field, Chicago; Lord and 
Taylor, New York. Rita is playing a featured 
role in Columbia's current "Plane No. 4" 


Jean Parker (opposite page) steps from a 
Nineteenth Century carriage wearing a 
Twentieth Century costume influenced in de- 
sign by the fashion of yesteryear. The broad- 1 
shouldered, fitted jacket, checked in navy 
and white, has contrast trim of navy woolen 
to match the fabric of the pleated skirt 
(which attaches to a short-sieeved shirt- 
maker blouse of the jacket check). Red and 
green quills pierce Jean's navy felt toque 
and a snood holds in her auburn curls. Navy 
suede heelless, toeless Tango pumps (far 
right) and short white gloves complete this 
costume chosen from Saks Fifth Avenue, 
Beverly Hills, which is fresh as spring itself — 
no wonder we titled it after the Hal Roach f 
film, "It's Spring Again," in which Jean is 
currently appearing. Columbia's "Romance 
of the Redwoods" is Jean's next assignment) 




The r 

shown here are to you at n lead- 

ing department i U. S. right 

Iress given below, S' 
deicT- rping of the hat or garment, you will 

be advised 

:sed. The 

popular shades. 
' :■ — 
Jea: . Fashion Secre: 

:.'ew York, 
New York 


Frances Mercer, who will next be seen in RKO's "The Castles," and Kay Sutton, cur- 
rently appearing in RKO's "Beauty for the Asking," take turns modeling smart new 
straws and felts. Miss Suiton poses in "Santa Anita" (left), which is a good bet for 
your new spring knits. It is of soft felt in the newest of the pastel blues for spring, 
aquatone, with striking suede trim in shocking pink and purple. It is a flattering hat and 
classically right for spectator sports. By Roxford, and you know what that means. 
Kay Sutton looks up in "Flamingo" (center). It is Roxford's version of the right kind of 
sailor to wear with your new spring tailored or dressmaker suit. The silly little brim is 
strictly on the level and the crown is just a shade deep, with an impudent rake "fore 
and aft." It is made of straw braid, sewn with craftmanship that is a sure sign of a 
Roxford hat. "Match Play" (below, center) is Byron's indispensable topnote for golfing 
— lightweight navy felt, tailored with the precision only a man's hatter achieves. The 
crown tucks, leather band and contrast suede disc trim lend a touch of femininity. 
Frances Mercer wears this model with her casual clothes. Frances also wears Byron's 
new mushroom-brimmed sailor of soft lattice braid straw (bottom), "Coral Gables." 
Note the season's newest crown, definitely on the miniature side, and the print sash 













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Pep up your winter coat with a lively print frock and 
saucy spring hat as does Gail D atrick, whom you wilt 
see in Paramount's "Grand Jury Secrets." Edith 
Head designed her purple and white "Mother Hub- 
bard style" frock; Robert Galer, her purple straw 
sailor, frivolously trimmed with wisps of veiling and 
cockade of spring flowers. Gail's topcoat (left) is 
of black coney fur. A Paramount star, Gail will 
soon make "Wagons Westward" for Republic 

II ailing 



Amid the rebellious era of Flam- 
ing Youth, Melvyn Douglas fought 
for the right to live and to love 


THE breeze said sullen, warm things in the 
eucalyptus trees and there was no moon; 
but there was white surf curling on the 
sand and the air was clean, so that Anne's per- 
fume — Melvyn Douglas can remember even 
now the scent of it — faintly gave a questing 
message. This was love, not as he had ever 
known it could be but with the significance of 
eternity (he thought) about it. 

He rather wanted to marry the girl. 
"Not," he said, as they stood on the beach that 
night, "until all this is over — until things are 
sane again and I'm mustered out of service — 
but then. ..." 

She sighed. It was the kind of a night for 
sighing. "The Captain will be furious. I don't 
care. Did you know I was supposed to be danc- 
ing with him tonight?" She gave the next sen- 

tence to him like something on a platter. "But I 
wanted to be with you." 

He twisted his sleeve so his new sergeant's 
stripes would show plainly. "Let's not think 
about the Captain." 


* * * * 

In the brightening dawn, hours later. Ser- 
geant Hesselberg limped a little as he paced out 
his guard duty. He was tired after a short 
night's sleep and reeling with hunger. The Cap- 
tain of the regiment appeared suddenly around 
a barracks' corner and saluted. 

"You look done in, Sergeant," he said. "Go on 
to breakfast. I'll finish your stint for you." 

Here was unexpected kindness. Melvyn was 
too sleepy even to consider treachery. "Thanks," 
he said and went shuffling off to the mess hall. 

He was stripped of his stripes the next day by 
superiors who, on the advice of the Captain, felt 
that a Sergeant who would desert his post was 
better off as a First-Class Private. 

Anne consoled him. But one evening he 
stopped in at the Soldiers and Sailors Club and 
saw Anne dancing with Judas. And something 
turned upside down in his young heart. It's just 
as well a group of politicians and generals were 
even then pondering peace in an Austrian rail- 
way car, since if hostilities had continued much 
longer Melvyn, inspired to recklessness by his 
bitter disgust, might have gone overseas and 
been foolishly courageous. As it was. he ex- 
changed khaki for broadcloth with no particular 
(Continued on page 79) 

From Shakespeare, to religious 
revivals, to stock (below) was 
the course of Melvyn's un- 
charted rebellion against con- 
vention and intolerance until, at 
last, in the process of growing 
up, his mental reasoning took on 
a more intelligent aspect, de- 
spite the fact that his emo- 
tions were as muddled as ever 


^_^(sJL^ AjL 





■BUNG him casually, you would never 
think of Eddie Albert" as a Great Lover. 

Still, at the preview of "Brother Rat," 
that moment when he first embraced Jane 
Bryan (remember?) sort of sent thrills 
chasing up and down your spine. After- 
ward, we all said excitedly, "And did you 
see him kiss that girl!" 

When the lights went up we all craned 
our necks for a sight of him. 

But we didn't find him. He wasn't at 
the preview. He wasn't even in town. 
Having seen the picture previously in a 
studio projection room, Albert had de- 
cided he was a flop and now he was in 
New York telling himself what a dub he 
had been. Nor did the fact that Warners 
already had lifted his option cheer him up. 
He thought they were dubs, too. Motion- 
picture fans the world over have changed 
his mind for him — at least slightly. 

Eddie's career began when, still a pupil 
at St. Stephen's Parochial School in Min- 
neapolis, a "strong man" in a vaudeville 
show chose him from the audience to help 
him in his act. From that time on, Eddie 
was dedicated to the theater. So, after two 
years at the University of Minnesota, he 
went to New York to try his luck as an 
actor. Eventually he landed a spot on the 
radio as Eddie of the Grace and Eddie 
team on the "Honeymooners" program. 

Small parts in two or three stage plays 
followed, after which he won the role of 
"Bing Edwards" in the Broadway hit, 
"Brother Rat," which ran for a year and a 
half and resulted in his screen contract. 

You would like Eddie if you knew him. 
He is quiet, shy and has a way of blushing 
when he talks to you. He is not married 
nor even engaged, but he would like to be. 
He admits it But he would have to do the 
courting himself. A friend of mine who 
knows him well says he would run a mile 
if a female started to pursue him. 

So, girls, you'll just have to wait until 
he asks you. . . . 

I HAD my pride . . ." 

Pretty, raven-haired Louise Campbell 
(yes, the heroine in Paramount's "Men 
with Wings") laughed as she said it, but 
there was a certain set to her little jaw. 

She had been dutifully answering ques- 
tions about herself; now she had come to a 
significant and enlightening anecdote. 

As the story goes, Louise's theatrical 
nmbitions had taken her, in 1934, to New 
York and a certain theatrical producer, 
armed with letters of introduction. 
"Please give me a tryout," she had begged. 

He had done so, but, after she had read 
about six lines, he had waved her out of 
the office. ''Better go home and get mar- 
ried," had been his parting remark. 

"Well," Louise said now, "I didn't go 
home and get married, t got a role in 
stock in 'Accent on Vouth'" And suc- 
ceeded so well, subsequent history proves, 
that eventually she won the leaa in Broad- 
way's "Three Men on a Horse. ' 

Yes, she's a stubborn little thing and she 
has her pride. She's always been that 
way. After seeing "Uncle Tom's Cabin" 
at the age of six, she decided she would be 
an actress. She never changed her mind 
through the following years. 

After graduating from St. Michael's 
school in Chicago, she entered Northwest- 
ern University and, later, the Chicago 
School of Expression and De Paul Univer- 
sity, absorbing every course in dramatic 
art. It was the theater or nothing — and, 
of course, she won out — a Paramount tal- 
ent scout signed her for films. 

Louise was married Christmas week at 
her home in Chicago to Horace MacMahon, 
Hollywood actor. Neither has been mar- 
ried before. They met when both were 
members of the "Three Men on a Horse" 
but it wasn't until both were estab- 
lished in pictures that they fell in love. 

Louise says she doesn't exactly know 
why that was. Maybe, she says, it was 
the "Hollywood influence." 

IT isn't Fay Bainter, the actress, who in- 
terests me most, but Fay Bainter, the 

She is married to a retired lieutenant 
commander of the United States Navy and 
her social position is unassailable. She can 
play the great lady in real life with any so- 
cialite in the country; yet she can deal a 
game of black jack with all the finesse 
(and perhaps monkey business) of a pro- 
fessional gambler. 

She is the mother of a fourteen-year-old 
son, but to see them together you'd think 
she were his kid sister. She plays with 
him and his cronies every chance she gets. 

She is crazy about dogs and owns half a 
dozen schnauzers which she keeps at her 
country home near Ossining, New York. 

She is also crazy about poetry and will 
read it aloud by the hour — to herself if no 
one else will listen. She can write it, too, 
and does, but not for publication. 

She can whistle — no, not just the bath- 
tub variety, but like a professional. 

She can whittle — lovely little things of 
the finest and most delicate workmanship 
which would make a Japanese netsuke 
artist green with jealousy. 

She can play the harmonica and her ver- 
sion of "The Last Roundup" is worth pay- 
ing money to hear. 

She is wild about shoes and owns 150 
pairs. She plays marbles like a champion; 
mumblety-peg, ditto. She collects music 
boxes and now owns ninety-six of them. 
She always drives her own car. She al- 
ways gets up at seven o'clock in the morn- 
ing — or earlier. 

She is courteous and friendly to meet 
and can talk equally well on politics or 
gardening. She is interested in both. Also, 
she seems interested in you and, when you 
interview her, likely as not the first thing 
you know you will find yourself telling her 
about your appendectomy or the time you 
got pinched for speeding; which (and is 
my face red!) happened to me. 

^tdLk.L*^ uUcrvx^t' 


HE is handsome. He can act. He has 

This was the verdict of "The Young in 
Heart" preview audience concerning new- 
comer Richard Carlson. They left the 
theater wondering excitedly who he was 
and where he came from. 

Well, I can tell you something about that. 
He was born in Minnesota and he is 
twenty-six years old. His father is a prom- 
inent attorney of Minneapolis. He is a 
graduate of the University of Minne- 
sota, has an M.A. degree and owns a Phi 
Beta Kappa key. He has had a lot of ex- 
perience writing plays and once had one 
produced on Broadway — a flop, sad to say. 
After he left school, he accepted the post 
of instructor at his own Alma Mater, but 
only until he could, with the aid of scholar- 
ship prize money, organize a theatrical 
group called the Minneapolis Repertory 
Company, of which he was manager, di- 
rector, author and actor. 

It was a pretty good company and the 
plays produced were pretty good, too, but 
Richard forgot to advertise them, with the 
result that soon his money was gone, and 
with it the Repertory Company. 

He flipped a coin then, and came to 
Hollywood. However, he didn't win much 
in the way of a fortune in our film citadel. 
Discouraged, finally, he went to New 
York and talked his way into a role in 
"Three Men on a Horse." This led to big- 
ger and better things and two years later, 
when Selznick needed a Duncan MacCrea 
for "The Young in Heart," Dick was ready. 
He is an engaging young man, is Carl- 
son. He seems to have his fingers well 
crossed and to feel that, despite this ap- 
parent success, he still is not exactly God's 
newly discovered gift to the movies. . . . 
"A swell break, I've had," was all he'd 
say. 'T hope I get another." 
He probably will! 

P.S. Oh, yes, girls! I almost forgot. He 
is not married! 


No woman likes to be told she lacks sex 
appeal. Most women will do what they 
can to disprove that accusation. Ann 
Sheridan did. And thereby hangs this tale. 
Ann had been in Hollywood for two 
years and had had only casual success. 
Then she left her home studio, Warners, to 
appear in Universal's "Letter of Introduc- 
tion" and practically stole the show. This 
is the story back of her sudden success. 

It began after a preview in which she 
had i^een only "so-so." But she had long 
resigned herself to the conviction that she 
would never be a star. The friend with 
her, however, had different ideas. He 
said bluntly, "You've got as much life on 
the screen as a piece of cheese — and about 
as much sex appeal." 

Ann's Irish temper flared. '"I'll thank 
you to — " she began, but he interrupted. 
"Yeah, I know. You'll thank me to mind 
my business. But for once I'm not go- 
ing to'." He didn't — the "dressing down" 
lasted half an hour, ending when Ann, 
speechless with rage, took a taxi home. 
But when she cooled off, she began to 
think. Perhaps. . . . 

Well, a week or so later, she went into 
"Letter of Introduction." You know the 
rest. After that preview, her name was 

Incidentally, she's twenty-three. She 
was born in Dallas, Texas, and is a de- 
scendant of the famous Civil War general, 
"Little Phil" Sheridan. Until a week or 
two before she came to Hollywood, she 
hadn't the slightest intention of becoming 
a screen actress. She was going to be a 
schoolteacher. But she won a beauty con- 
test: a talent scout saw her: a screen test 
and a contract followed. 

While, on the screen, hers is the sultry 
type of beauty, in reality she is quite the 
opposite. Irish ancestry has bequeathed 
her keen wit and the pro\-erbial Irish tem- 
per. She is unusually athletic. She has 
been married but it didn't "take." 


HE never gets the girl — at least, almost 
never — and you wonder why. For he is 
handsome (dark hair, blue eyes and an 
engaging grin) ; he is tall (six feet, three) : 
and he can make love a: well as any Great 
Lover on the screen today. . . . 

Meaning Walter Pidgeon. I should know 
about his love-making. I saw them shoot 
that scene in "I Take This Woman," where 
he kissed Hedy Lamarr so convincingly 
that the Hays Office banned the shot. 
That Pidgeon guy has something! 

He has been around Hollywood a long 
time, off and on. He has flopped a couple 
of times. But right now he has suddenly 
become one of the most popular actors in 
pictures with a box-office following that 
even a Clark Gable wouldn't sneeze at. 

Walter is a Canadian, the son of a 
wealthy wholesale dealer in New Bruns- 
wick. He was a student at the University 
of New Brunswick when the World War 
broke out. He enlisted immediately. After 
the war, he went back to college and, fol- 
lowing graduation, established himself in 
a brokerage business in Boston, only to 
meet some students of the Copley Dra- 
matic School and become interested in the 

It was during his early theatrical days, 
as a member of one of Elsie Janis' com- 
panies, that tragedy found him. His 
young wife (a nonprofessional) died when 
their daughter was born. For ten years 
thereafter, Walter cared for his motherless 
youngster (known as "Pidge" and whom 
he adores) before he remarried. That 
marriage lasted six or seven years, but 
only lately has gone on the rocks. 

No, Walter is not a "gay young blade.' 
He is a little over forty and admits it But 
having kept his waistline, his hair and his 
sense of humor, and having acquired in ad- 
dition the poise, the aplomb, the sophisti- 
cation which only years and experience 
can bring, he is a man to be reckoned with 
t the box office or anywhere else. 

Ccl York's Gossip of Hollywood 

from page ~>1) 

Dip Whirl Perfed 


.md his 

mot).' I with him. Slu- WU mar- 

• the youth all 

ight for a moment 


1 the had b- ■ nival 

trouper H« Latin love of life thona 
in hi Hit Indomitable spirit 

On the side lines they applauded the 
■lick-haired boy and the woman who 

followed his steps n effortlessly. And 
whin it was over, the judges 
George and his mother the $50. 

That we say. a long time ago, 

but that contest set George along the 
road to success, as his mother had 
meant it should. And at the top, at last. 
he made his plans to repay her. He 
would build her a house. They would 
live there together. She would have 
| thing she had ever wanted: every- 
thing she had been denied through the 
long, struggling years. George promised 
her that and promised himself. 

And then, just as the house was fin- 
ished and she was making her plans 
to travel West. George Raft's mother 
died. She died in New York: in her 
hand, a picture of the new home she 
i have gone to so soon. 

Todny. as we have said, this home 
that was to have been hers is a ghost 
house, swept by the chill and lonely 
winds of the canyon, friendless and 
alone. And out in front is a sign that 

For George will never live there. He 
says he can't. 

Snapping the Shutter at the Stars This 
Month : 

GEORGE BURNS says he's unhappy. 

Jack Benny says he hasn't a thing to 
worry about, not even Mary's hats. 

Joan Crawford says no reconciliation 
with Franchot but a long European trip 
in the spring — all by her lovely self. 

Garbo says no George Cukor to direct, 
no picture for her. 

M-G-M says. "Why can't that girl be 
happy just once?" 

Columnists say Robert Taylor and 
Barbara Stanwyck may elope. 

Bob and Barbara say, "Why elope and 
from whom? We're both of age." 

Tyrone Power says. "Will I marry 
Annabella? Yes, it's a fine day, isn't 

Gee, Hollywood's Wonderful 

I WOULD rather be a milkman in 
Hollywood than the town mayor any- 
where el • 

Our faithful deliverer of the cofTVo 
cream bowled us over with this state- 
ment yesterday morning. 

he explained, "I can smile 
at II rr every morning on her 

way to work and she smiles back. 

"You know something?" he added, 
sensing our curiosity, "Miss Lamarr re- 
ea her lines over and over every 
morning. Out loud. too. It just hap- 
pens her car and my trurk meet near 
the corner of Canon Drive and Santa 
Monica Boulevard every morning and 
one morning I called. You're doing fine. 

Lamarr, I can hardly wait t 
the picture.' And she said. Thank you. 
I hope you'll like me in it.' 

"See," he added, "it's wonderful 
ing a milkman in Hollywood." 


Calling all votes! Calling all votes! Here is your last 
chance (3 select the winner of PHOTOPLAY'S Gold Medal! 

THIS is your last chance to cast your 
vote in the signal contest of the 
year, the award of Photoplay's 
Gold Medal for "The Best Picture of 
1938." All ballots must be received on 
or before March first. The polls defi- 
nitely close on that day. 

As heretofore, the conferring of the 
Medal rests entirely with the readers 
of our magazine. We naturally never 
make a suggestion as to which picture 
you should vote for; we merely list on 
this page as many pictures produced 
during 1938 as space will permit, 
just to give your memory a chance to 
go back over what you have seen dur- 
ing the year. If your favorite picture 
is not here, vote for it anyway; your 
vote will be counted in favor of that 

However, we are always very curious 
and enthusiastic when the votes begin 
to roll in. We know that if you register 
your opinion on a certain type of pic- 
ture produced this year, the studios will 
make more of that type next year. We 
know that to Hollywood — producers, 
directors and actors — your vote is im- 
portant. So vote today. 

(Due to the fact that the release of 
"Gunga Din" was postponed until after 
the first of the year instead of during 
1938 as originally announced, we have 
removed it from the list of outstanding 
pictures on this page.) 

TILL out the ballot below, or just write 
your choice for the "Best Picture of 
L930" on a slip of paper and mail it to the 
Gold Medal Editor. Photoplay. 122 East 
42nd St., New York, N. Y. There are 
no rules to this contest. You vote — we 
count — and then, in the May issue of 
Photoplay, we will announce the win- 
ner: the picture which wins the most of 
your votes wins the Gold Medal. 

Here is your opportunity to encour- 
age better pictures. Don't forget the 
polls close March 1st. Vote now! 


Alexander's Rag- 
time Band 
Adventures of 

Marco Polo, The 
Adventures of Robin 

Hood, The 
Adventures of Tom 

Sawyer, The 
Amazing Dr. Clitter- 

house, The 
Angels with Dirty 

Arkansas Traveler 
Blackwell's Island 
Bluebeard's Eighth 

Boy Meets Girl 
Boys Town 
Bringing Up Baby 
Brother Rat 
Buccaneer, The 
Citadel, The 
Cowboy and the 

Lady, The 
Crime School 
Crowd Roars, The 
Dawn Patrol 
Dramatic School 

Four Daughters 
Girl of the Golden 

West, The 
Goldwyn Follies 
Grand Illusion 
Happy Landing 
Having Wonderful 

If I Were King 
In Old Chicago 
Ji 1 ■ 1 
Joy of Living 
Just Around the 


Letter of Introduction 
Lord Jeff 

Love and Hisses 
Love Finds Andy 

Mad About Music 
Mad Miss Manton 
Man to Remember 
Marie Antoinette 
Men with Wings 
Merrily We Live 
Of Human Hearts 
Rage of Paris, The 
Rebecca of Sunny- 
brook Farm 
Room Service 
Shining Hour, The 
Shopworn Angel 
Sing, You Sinners 
Sisters, The 
Slight Case of 

Murder, A 
Snow White and the 

Seven Dwarfs 
Submarine Patrol 

Test Pilot 
Texans, The 
That Certain Age 
Three Loves Has 

Three Comrades 
Too Hot to Handle 
Toy V/ife, The 
Trade Winds 
Valley of the Giants 
Vivacious Lady 
Wells Fargo 
White Banners 
Yank at Oxford, A 
Yellow lack 
You Can't Take It 

with You 
Young in Heart, The 






In my opinion the picture named below is the 
best motion-picture production rolcssed in 1938 






I D rather be a receptionist in Holly- 
wood than a social leader anywhere 
else,"' Photoplay's little redhead-at- 
the-telephone-desk told us. 

"Now, tell me," she went on, "where 
else in the world could I answer the 
phone and find Donald Duck on the 
other end?" 

"You're spoofing." we chided. 

"I'm not. I tell you Photoplay's 
phone rang yesterday and there was 
Donald Duck in person, inviting us to 
a party at Disney's Studio. 

"Gee," she added, "it's wonderful an- 
swering phones in Hollywood." 

Our Sun, Our Sun 

It was half-funny, half-pathetic, the 
statement young Peter Holden (late of 
the Broadway hit, "On Borrowed Time," 
now in RKO-Radio's "The Great Man 
Votes") made about California's famous 
sunshine shortly after his arrival in 
Hollywood for the first time. 

They were making stills of him at the 
studio one day and after every shot he 
would rush over to the thickly cur- 
tained windows and, pushing them back, 
would look out fearfully. 

"Why do you do that, Peter?" the 
cameraman asked the youngster. 

"I'm afraid the sun will be gone," 
Peter explained. 

Way Down East in Astoria 

llOW that picture production is boom- 
ing again in the East, current activities 
at Eastern Service Studios in Astoria 
have elicited much attention. 

Starring Sylvia Sidney, ". . . one- 
third of a nation . . ," is about ready 
for showing, with Producer William K. 
Howard now putting the finishing 
touches to "Back Door to Heaven." 
Both productions are highly budgeted 
and will be distributed as outstanding 
pictures by one of the major companies. 

There is nothing glamorous about the 
Astoria studios. The subway takes you 
directly there and the studio itself is 
surrounded on four sides by modest 
Queens apartment houses. The huge 
sound stage, like any Hollywood sound 
stage, is merely a vast gray building, a 
block square, looking more like a blimp 
hangar than a stamping ground for 
glamour boys and girls. 

Stepping gingerly over a mass of 
wires, cables, planks and incipient sets, 
you soon find yourself in a corner of 
the stage where Bill Howard is super- 
vising the final scenes of "Back Door 
to Heaven." 

Bill is a sentimental Irishman with a 
long string of screen successes to his 
credit and a proclivity for hilarious 
anecdotes. At the moment, however, 
he is in dead earnest, for he is guiding 
Patricia Ellis, Wallace Ford and Aline 
MacMahon through ine climactio se- 
quences of his picture and he's taking 
no chances. 

The cast of "Back Door to Heaven" 
numbers numerous Broadway thes- 
pians. The actor emotes before the 
camera in the afternoon and tears the- 
atrical passions to tatters in the evening 
on the Great White Way. 

In fact, the talk in New York now- 
adays is all of pictures. Even visiting 
Hollywood stars, fleeing the West Coast 
for a change of air, arrive in the East 
to find conversation tending toward 
such abstruse subjects as camera an- 
(Continued on page 91) 




Protect daintiness — keep skin SWEET — the 
Hollywood way. The screen stars use LUX 
TOILET SOAP as a BATH soap, too. Use 
it every day. Its ACTIVE lather carries away 
stale perspiration, every trace of dust 
and dirt. Leaves a delicate, clinging perfume 

on the skin. 



! _ 


■ 'A 

9 out of 10 

Screen Stars use Lux Toilet Soap 


I V 

V N 


















Can't Wait to Be Forgotten 

(Continued from page 32) 

town. When 1 
mentcd on her (notability, iha sal I. I 

don't think .1 star knows wfal 

ht (or bar or him We i 
I with an eye to our own 

1 than to the story .is .1 whole The 

ttudioi have done pretty well for mc. 
They've made me an important star and 

II they put 
i my box- 
I the returns on their in- 
cut won't be .so good. Why 
,-houldn't I rely on their judgment?" 
Today, when I recalled tliis conver- 
: ' 'l'erh. .ps I'd have been 
better ofl 11 I had fou) lit for better 
• lories, but the end didn't justify th ■ 
mean.s. I'd have been Suspended and 

the t. under suspension would 

have been added to the end of my con- 
tract So. instead of being free now. I 
would probably have had another year 
to go. And. even then, I'd have had no 
guarantee the stories I picked would 
have been any better. Even if they had 
been, the only difference would have 
been that I would be retiring in a blaze 
of glory instead of more or less incon- 
spicuously — and this is the way I want 
it. I'll be forgotten quicker this way. 


I HAVE never brandished a sword for 

the Little Theater Movement. I have 
never kidded myself about Art for Art's 
sake. I went into this business because 
I thought I could make more money in 
it than any other. 

"A man may manufacture automobiles 
or tires. He may make better cars or 
tires than his competitors. The knowl- 
edge that he does may be a satisfaction 
to him. but he doesn't do it primarily 
for that reason. JJe does it because 
that's how he can make the most 
money. After he's made his pile, if he 
has any sense, he retires and enjoys it. 
That's the way I feel. I hold firmly with 
the theory advanced in 'You Can't Take 
It With You.* 

"I've done everything I set out to do 
and now I'm going to enjoy myself. 
I've given ten years of my life to ac- 
cumulating enough money to do the 
things 1 want to do. Ten years of never 
being able to travel when I wanted to, 
never being able to entertain when I 
wanted to, or go out when I wanted to 
■ — because picture schedules always had 
to be consulted before I could make 
plans. Now, I'm free! 

"My mother's future is provided for. 
I built a house for her and furnished it 
without her knowing anything about it. 
When it was all done I planned to move 
her into it on her maid's day off. The 
maid, instead of taking the day off. went 
over to the new house. I had picked up 
Mother's dogs the day before and told 
her I was going to take them to the 
veterinarian to be washed. Instead, I 
took them to the new house. Then I 
took Mother driving and when we 
d the house I said, 'That's a cute 
place. Let's go in and look at it.' Her 
own maid answered the bell. Her dogs 
jumped up and down in welcome. I had 
arranged to have her best friend drop 
in for tea. 

"Afterward, the friend slaved with 
her when I left and I went home to tele- 
phone her 11 from me was the 
first she received in her new place. I 
established a trust fund for her when I 
first began making important money, so 
she is taken care of. 

"As far as I, myself, am concern. 
have just recently built the sort of house 
I've always wanted. It's what you might 
call 'a big little house' or 'a little big 

house' It's all paid and I I 
managed Id sa hat I 

• ■ ■ p 11 up on my in. 
It isn't an expensive place to run and 

the investment isn't so large I can't af- 
ford to close it up when I want to go 
though Tm thrifty enough to 
! ublet it, probably." 

What about your forthcoming mar- 

1 bluntly. 

Kay laughed. "I honestly don't know 

when it will be. If I did know, I 

wouldn't tell you— but I honestly don't 

know. When I am married it will be 

private citizen of no consequence. 

1 won't be in the limelight any more 

. od there is no reason my wedding 

should be given more than passing 

comment. It won't be immediately, 

though. I have rented my house be- 

I intended going to Europe. On 

Santa Barbara and San Francisco but 
I could never see them as often as I 
wished. Now I can renew all those 

"I've been fortunate in acquiring more 
real friends than most people have. I 
think they are fond enough of me that 
they'll still enjoy seeing me whether 
I'm prominent or not." 

I HAT last scene had been finished dur- 
ing this conversation and Kay prepared 
to leave the set. "May I come along to 
your dressing room and finish this con- 
versation?" I askid. 

Kay looked at me for a moment and 
her eyes misted. 

"I have no dressing room any more," 
she said simply. "I purposely gave it 
up about a week ago. For the past 
week I've been going to the make-up 

ture pictures. I plan to be gone indefi- 
nitely and it may be that when I return 
no one will want me. But, as I told 
you before, if a producer should offer 
me a good part when I'm in Hollywood, 
I'll jump at it. 

"The second thing concerns my age. 
When I first came out here I was under 
contract to Paramount. I have never 
been sensitive about my age and was 
perfectly willing to have it published. 
But Paramount said 'No!' They merely 
publicized the fact I was born on Fri- 
day, the 13th of January. Reporters 
consulted almanacs and found the 13th 
of January fell on Friday in the years 
1899 and 1911. 

"One made me younger and the other 
older. They arbitrarily selected 1399 as 
the year of my birth. Actually it was 
1905 and I am 34. 

account of conditions there I am going 
to take the South Seas cruise instead 
and when I return I will have to live 
in an apartment until the lease on my 
house expires. 

"When I built the house I had no in- 
tention of being married and now, when 
the lease expires, it will have to be re- 
modeled slightly in order to provide ac- 
commodations for Erik. But whether 
we'll be married here in Hollywood, in 
New York or eventually, in Europe, I 
still don't know. 

"Erik Barnckow, whom I'm going to 
marry, is in the aviation business. His 
interests necessitate his spending six 
months of the year in Europe and six 
months here. 

"We'll take side trips during the time 
we're abroad and of the six months 
we're in this country some of the time 
will be spent in New York (which I 
adore) and some of the time here in 

"I have many friends in New York 
in no way connected with pictures. 
When I first came to Hollywood I had 
outside friends here, too, but it is al- 
most impossible to keep up those friend- 
ships when you're working. When I've 
been in New York it has been on va- 
cations, so I've been able to do as I 
please, but in Hollywood it has been 
different. I used to have friends in 

department every morning and using 
the dressing room here on the set. I 
didn't want to become maudlin or sen- 

"This is the first picture I've finished 
out here that I haven't had a party for 
the cast and crew afterward. But this 
time is different. I knew I'd start cry- 
ing and so would some of the others. 
I didn't want to say good-by that way. 
I want to remember all these people as 
friends with whom I used to kid — with 
whom I had swell times. I don't want 
to remember them — or have them re- 
member me — with long faces and red 
eyes. I want to saunter off the lot and 
out of their lives as casually as ihough 
the picture weren't finished and we'd 
be meeting again in the morning." 

She faced me suddenly. 

"Dick, there is one favor you can do 
for me. There are three things I would 
like cleared up before I'm the 'For- 
gotten Woman.' As a private citizen 
none of them is really important, but 
the public has been kind and loyal to 
me and I don't want to leave it under 
any misapprehensions. The first thing 
is my retirement. Please emphasize that 
I have never — despite anything they 
may have read to the contrary — said I 
will ?ierer make another picture. I have 
only said I will never sign another long- 
term contract. I have no plans for fu- 

"The last thing concerns my mar- 
riages. Reporters insist I have already 
been married four times and this will 
be my fifth. When you've been married 
that many times, one more or less 
doesn't matter, but I have actually been 
married three times and this will be my 
fourth. I'm not trying to make excuses 
but two of those marriages and divorces 
took place before I was 22. The first 
was to Dwight Francis, the second to 
William A. Gaston. My supposed third 
marriage was to John Meehan, a writer. 
When this news broke he sent me a 
kidding wire: "When did all this hap- 
pen? I must have been asleep or on a 
trip around the world." He was dia- 
logue director on my first picture and 
while we're good friends we were never 

"The third marriage was to Kenneth 
MacKenna and now this one to Erik 

She held out her hand. 

"Good-by, darling," she whispered 
huskily. "You've been awfully sweet to 
me. Come and see me when I get back. 
You — " Suddenly she dropped my hand, 
turned and ran off the stage — out, into 
her car. 

I watched the car move down the 
street and out through the studio gates. 
My own eyes misted. 

A star was dimmed. 




r oday's Debs Take EXTRA SKIN CARE -They Cream 
EXTRA "SKIN-VITAMIN"into their Skin * 

'• '"',V . 


n the Ritz-Carlton's Crystal Garden — Margaret 
liddle, Philadelphia deb, dances. She goes in for to- 
lay's extra skin care ... "I always cream extra 'skin- 
ritamin' into my skin by using Pond's Cold Cream." 

Benefit opens Chicago's Opera Season — 
Tita Johnson, season's deb: "Extra 'skin- 
vitamin' in my daily Pond's creamings is just 
common sense." 

Date Book — Four parties in one evening! No 
wonder Phebe Thorne, New York deb, 

sleeps till noon. To keep that fresh, sparkling 
look she uses Pond's. "I believe in it." 

White Week End— Boston debs frequently week-end at Peckett's 
in the White Mountains, (above) Adelaide Weld, debutante in 
Boston and New York. Faithful use of Pond's helps keep her skin 
smooth and soft. "It's so easy — I just cream my skin with Pond's." 

Washington — Evalyn McLean chats between 
dances at her family's mansion, "Friendship," 
rendezvous of international society. She chose 
Pond's. "It's famous for smoothing skin to 
give make-up glamour plus." 

In Pond's Laboratory — Electrically driven pro- 
peller* stir and mix Pond'i Cold Cream. 

Vitamin A, the "skin-vitamin," 
is necessary to skin health. Scien- 
tists found that this vitamin, ap- 
plied to the skin, healed wounds 
and burns quicker. Now this 
"skin-vitamin" is in every jar of 
Pond's Cold Cream! Use Pond's 
night and morning and before 
make-up. Same jars, labels, price. 

Caprria-bt, lttt, Picdi Extract Cimmt 

* Statements concerning the effects of the "»kin-\ itamin" applied to the skin are based upon 
medical literature and tests on the skin of animals following an accepted laboratory method. 

Tune in on "THOSE WE LOVE/' Pond'i Program, Mondoyi. 1:30 P.M., N.T. Timo, N.i.C. 

1ARCH , I 939 


Two famous designers, How- 
ard Greer and Travis Banton. 
Two famous stars, Ginger 
Rogers and Carole Lombard. 
This glamorous quartette was 
photographed by our own 
Hymie Fink at the recent 
opening of the Greer-Banton 
fashion salon, Hollywood 

IN spring a young girl's fancy turns to thoughts 
of clothes. Brand-new ones to match the 
fresh, gay mood of the season itself. 

Photoplay brings you Hollywood's side of the 
spring fashion story direct from two of cinema- 
town's greatest designers — Howard Greer and 
Travis Banton — who, from their famous custom 
salon, create clothes for the personal wardrobes 
of the stars and the Southland's elite, as well as- 
for motion-picture wardrobes on special assign- 
ment. Howard Greer's is an old established 
salon — Banton added his name to it shortly after 
his resignation from Paramount Studios last fall 
where he was head designer. Of course, you re- 
member seeing the Greer models worn by 
Ginger Rogers in "Carefree" and Katharine 
Hepburn in "Bringing Up Baby." Likewise, 
Banton's glamour gowns brought to movie fame 
by Marlene Dietrich, Claudette Colbert and 
Carole Lombard! 

The spring fashion horizon, as seen through 
the eyes of Greer and Banton, is one of the most 
interesting and brilliant viewed in many a 

This coming season there will definitely be no 
set trends — no traditional "musts" — no pre- 
scribed fashion laws. One will not have to wear 
a .straw hat to be chic in 1939, or select a town 
able of print, or one of navy with trim of 
white pique, or wear patent pumps, or even 
purchase a tailored suit. 

In general, the trends will have a "little girl" 
look because of the old-fashioned dressmaker 
detail and the dainty femininity of line and trim. 
Skirts for daytime will be a wee bit shorter; the 
silhouette will be varied: there will be bloused 
models in both frocks and coats: pleated skirts; 
wee, Baring jackets and numerous modifications 
of the bolero: classic drapery for afternoon and 

evening gowns: corseleted and pinched-in waist- 
eve shoulders that jut out or up by 

means of shirrings, gathers, pleats or paddings. 

Necklines will be variable. Many skirts will 
boast flounces; the dinner suit, long or short. • ill 
remain in great popularity; jacket suits, jacket 
frocks and coat and frock ensembles will have 
wider appeal than ever. Gaiety will persist in 
play clothes, with stripes, checks and plaids out- 
standing in the collections. 

Hand-knit sweaters will see a smart re 


and many will be seen in short dressy versions 
for formal wear. 

The latter ones will frequently be embroid- 
ered with gay yarns or glittering paillettes. 
Hats will have more brim and less crowns; they 
will be made of exquisite fabrics as well as 
felts and straws; they will be tied round with 
plaid and velvet ribbons and novel veilings; 
they will have a posy perched "now here, now 
there"; they will be piquant and picturesque! 

OHEER woolen will become an important fabric 
for all daytime apparel as well as for evening 
wraps and formals — this fabric will smartly 
challenge the previous popularity of "crepe" for 
spring. Prints, of course, will be shown, but 
their greatest interest will lie in the medium of 
tie silks. 

They will fashion these tie silks into casual 
frocks for wear under sport coats: into those 
that will be w< rn with a companion co;.t or with 
one of sheer woolen colored from one of the 
lighter dominant figure notes of the tie silk; 
and into the perennially important "coat dress." 

The so-popular coat dress will boast a brand- 
new picturesqueness in its spring interpretation. 
Its styling will have a quaint femininity. Like 
all the clothes in the Greer-Banton spring col- 
lection, it will have a "dressed-up" look, for 
these two men stress femininity in women's 

Likewise, their redingote ensembles stress 
femininity. Colorful coats top frocks of con- 
trast sheer woolens or, as mentioned previously, 
those of silk. 

The soft little dressmaker suit of sheer woolen 
which allows feminine styling as well as the 

addition cf bits of froufrou and a chapeau that 
is veiled and flowered and flattering is more in 
the mood of the season than the strictly man- 
nish tailleur. The former suit is more becoming 
and yet it embodies all the essentials of smart 
street grooming. 

Even sports frocks heretofore plainly tailored 
for ease and action will take on a new feminine 
glory. For example, Greer and Banton suggest a 
shirtmaker frock of tie silk in shaded blues with 
collar and cuffs of white hand-embroidered 
batiste edged with lace — or one of pale green 
woolen (green in all its shades is the color news 
for spring) styled "jumper fashion" with 
a contrast blouse of pale yellow hand -embroid- 
ered linen edged at neck and sleeve with narrow 
baby lace. 

Sport tweeds are as important as ever this 
spring. Stripes, subtle colorings and soft, open 
weaves are the high lights of these tweed col- 
lections. One of the loveliest color combinations 
I saw was of lettuce green, soft pink and mauve. 

Tweeds will be featured in greatcoats and in 
separate jackets that will top plain skirts that 
have plucked their coloring from one of the hues 
in the jacket tweed. Greatcoat.; will stress 
shoulder yokes and back flares — jackets will 
stress ample draping and long lines. 

Greer and Banton, of course, favor the little 
jacket suit of navy. But they accent it with a 
colorful blouse of red and white checked ging- 
ham instead of "yesteryear's must" — white 

In summary, Greer and Banton feel that fash- 
ion this spring will reveal all there is of beauty 
in silhouette, color and fabric — that it will be 
truly feminine, truly picturesque! 


Play Truth and Consequences with Claudette 


'Continued from page 24 | 

8. (Q) As a girl did you ever have ro- 

mantic dreams of marrying some 
famous personality, and who was 
(A) Yes, I remember that I defi- 
nitely thought I was the girl 
for the Prince of Wales. When 
he arrived in New York some 
years ago I was one of several 
students selected from our 
school to greet him at an offi- 
cial luncheon. I went repre- 
senting the French children of 
the school and presented him 
with an American and a 
French flag and for months 
afterwards I went around in a 
daze. I reminded him of the 
incident recently when I met 
him in Europe, as the Duke of 
Windsor, but alack — he didn't 
even remember! 

9. (Q) For what particular devilment 

were you most severely punished 
as a girl? 
(A) For talking back to my mother. 
I always wanted the last word 
— she still criticizes me for it. 

10. (Q) Do you feel fans are disappointed 

in you when they see you in 
(A) Fm too busy worrying about 
how I look to feel anything. 

What attempt in your life turned 
out to be the saddest fiasco? 
Miss Colbert took the conse- 
sequences. (Draw a picture of 

2. (0) Have you ever been guilty of 
laughing in church and what was 
the occasion? 
(A) No. I was brought up too 
strictly for that. 

13. (Q) What has ever caused your hus- 

band to put you "in the dog- 
house" for a time? 
(A) I am always forgetting to tell 
him ahead of time about din- 
ner parties we are going to at- 

14. (Q) How well do you keep a secret? 
(A) As well as the average woman. 

15. (Q) How do you react when your hus- 

band makes an admiring remark 
about another woman? 
(A) If I like her too, it's okay, but 
if not — well! 

16. (Q) Do you consider yourself ar\ easy 

person to get along with? 
(A) Yes, because Fm one of those 
lucky people who just happens 
to have a good disposition. 

17. (Q) What role have you secretly de- 

sired which was won by another 

(A) Mary of Scotland — I was ter- 
ribly envious when Katharine 
Hepburn played it. 

18. (Q) Do you wear false eyelashes off 

the screen? 
(A) No, they're too much trouble — 
and you can always tell that 
they're false, anyway. 

19. (Q) Before you were married were you 

inclined to be flirtatious? 
(A) No. I have a horror of flirta- 
tious women. 

20. (Q) Before your husband asked you to 

marry him, had you already made 
up your mind that you were going 
(A) Miss Colbert took the conse- 
quences. (Let us publish a 
picture of you without make- 

21. (0) Should you adopt a child, what 

would be your attitude later in 
informing him or her of the adop- 
(A) I feel it is only fair to tell the j 
child as soon as he is old . 
enough to understand — to tell 
him before someone else does. 

22. (Q) Which comedian amuses you most 

and why? 
(A) Charlie Ruggles, because his 
timing is so perfect. It isn't 
always what he says, but how. 

23. (0) Do you like to get together with 

close girl friends and talk about 
other women? 
(A) Yes, and I'd be fibbing if I said 

24. (Q) What mannerism or style of 

grooming have you changed to 
please your husband? 
(A) He's one of those men who 
dislikes bright-red nail polish. 
Ergo: I go colorless. 

25. (Q) What one thing which you haven't 

do you wish you had more than 
anything else in the world? 
(A) The part of Scarlett O'Hara in 
'Gone with the Wind." 

26. (Q) Are your charge accounts carried 

under the name of Claudette Col- 
bert or Mrs. Joel Pressman, and 
which name do you prefer to" use 
in your personal contacts? 
(A) I always use Mrs. Joel Jay 
Pressman and I am very put 
out when business or personal 
friends fail to address me by 
this name. I feel that every 
career woman in her private 
life should use her husband's 
name — for courtesy, as well as 
sentimental reasons. 

27. (Q) About what things are you most 



Letters have poured in questioning, "Why don'! von pub- 
lish more F.rrol FUmi -tori.-.'" So— LET '^ BUNT FOR 
TRE VSl RE by Errol Flyiin will appear in the \pril i — nc 
Hidden sold, pirate-' jewels, mysterious islands golden in 

the sunset, all are here — and true, too from the (m-ii of 
this remarkable young aetor-adventurer. You'll enjoy 
ever* word of it 


\\ Samuel GoMwyn's V I 

— * , AHDBEA LEEDS now m =» We to you 

The & - HoUvwooa star AHOB * ^ ^^ ,, 

f through DOUBLEMjN^^ ^ Simp uc.tN,2<H> 
'-dealers. Or 

lot m a 

7 satisfying its 

, Millions do. Ge 
Enjoy it aauj- 
packages today. 

MARCH. 1939 


Him irilJ 

you have 



I ¥ Limit a dash of purple in your 
beauty life. Wear Volupt'e 's exotic man t e- 
tinged shade, INTRIGUE ! Wear it shame- 
lessly shiny in that dazzling HUSSY of 
a lipstick "H"... ^TO ' ' '/nfy J»o,( no 

3JDIV1NI ■?? «<""// t»\ 'CjSlUlf U3CJ113 in 

'suvsm /p (a inq ',,"[„ pttrftj v Jo 

XQV1 -(f3.t0/ 1PCfl 111 'SS3]-U33C{S (jljos 

ii jfud pjuo.n no,( sdvcjj)^ c 

(A) I am constantly losing tin 
handkerchiefs especially — at 

the rata of two a day. 

28. (Q) In selecting a list of Hollywood's 
ten best-dressed women to include 
you, where on the list would you 
rank yourself, and why? 
(A) Miss Colbert took the conse- 
quences, (Write an essay of s 
hundred words or more, a la 
Bob Burns.) 

29. (Q) At what, acting excluded, do you 

consider yourself expert? 
(A) Fishing! I cast a mean hook, 
let me tell you. 

30. (Q) What slang expression do you 

most constantly use? 
(A) "So what.'' 

31. (Q) What do you consider your least 

attractive physical feature? 
(A) My nose. It's not so much the 
bane of my existence, but cam- 
eramen don't like it much. 

32. (Q) What do you weigh, and what 

weight problem do you have? 
(A) One hundred and fourteen 
pounds — and I am constantly 
stuffing to keep it up to that. 

33. (Q) What percentage of your income 

do you save? 
(A) One-tenth. 

34. (0) Has your happiness increased with 

your income? 
(A) Not particularly. Naturally I 
have been able to enjoy more 
luxuries and a greater feeling 
of security, but happiness deals 
with something more impor- 
tant. Being happy is a talent 
which everyone should try to 
develop — and it can be devel- 
oped without riches. 


35. (Q) For what type of portrayal do you 

consider yourself best suited? 
(A) Miss Colbert took the conse- 
quences. (From your own col- 
lection grant us the most un- 
glamorous photo taken of you 
on one of your trips.) 

36. (Q) What personal wish or like have 

you spent the most money to 
(A) I spend all my money on my 
home ... it gives me more 
gratification than anything else 
in the world. 

37. (Q) How old were you when you had 

your first date, and what was it? 
(A) I was seventeen and was in- 
vited to a Masonic ball. The 
poor young man was much 
surprised when my entire fam- 
ily came along, too. One or 
more members of my family 
always chaperoned me every- 

38. (Q) What do you think has been your 

greatest handicap in your career? 
(A) Neglecting to pose for suffi- 
cient publicity pictures. 

39. (Q) What do you think has been your 

greatest asset? 
(A) Always worrying about getting 
good stories, rather than good 

40. (Q) On what occasion and by whom 

have you ever been told to "mind 
your own business"? 

(A) I always mind my own busi- 
ness. I have a terrible curios- 
ity about other people, but I 
manage to control it. 

41. (0) Was there anything about you or 

your looks when you were a child 
which caused other kids to ridicule 
(A) Yes, I had to wear little ankle 
socks all year round as French 
children do and the others 
leased me — said it was because 
my family was too stingy to 
buy me stockings. 

42. (0) When have you ever resorted to 

tears to get something? 
(A) Miss Colbert took the conse- 
quences. (Write a verse about 
La Conga, the dance being in- 
troduced in "Midnight.") 

43. (Q) Do you bestow a great deal of 

attention on small aches and 
(A) I used to — I was almost a hy- 
pochondriac, but marrying a 
doctor cured that. 

44. (0) In case of a misunderstanding are 

you quick to apologize or do you 
wait for the other person to do it? 
(A) I apologize immediately, be- 
cause I can't stand friction. 

45. (Q) Do you try to conceal your age? 
(A) I can't conceal it, because it's 

been published for twelve 
years every place in the world; 
but I would like to forget it. 

46. (Q) Do you consider yourself an in- 

formal person? 
(A) About many things, yes . . . 
but in some connections I pre- 
fer to be formal. I dislike very 
much to have people "drop in" 
on me at home, for example. 
I'm not good at potluck host- 
essing ... it gives me the jit- 
ters and all my friends know 
it by now. 

47. (Q) Are you spoiled? 

(A) Not enough! I love to be 
spoiled — especially when I'm 
feeling sorry for myself. Then 
I want lots of sympathy and to 
be told that I'm right. 

Penalty on Question No. 58. 
This is a "consequence" Jean 
Arthur thought up last month 
— arrange your hair in its most 
unbecoming style and have 
your picture taken that way 

48. (0) Do you fear death? 
(A) Yes, terribly. 

49. (<P) What is the least amount of money 

per year on which you believe you 
could live comfortably? 
(A) Miss Colbert took the conse- 
quences. (Since you admit, in 
your answer to question 38, 
that you haven't posed for 
enough publicity pictures, let 
us have a typical one of you 

50. (Q) What are your plans for retire- 

(A) I haven't any — I hope to go on 
and on. 

51. (0) On what subject do you believe 

yourself most qualified to advise 
someone else? 
(A) Advice is awfully cheap and 
about as unwelcome ... I 
know, because I've received 
lots of it and that's why I don't 
give it now. 

52. (0) When did you last make a faux 

(A) Last evening, and that was the 
third one yesterday. I am al- 
ways making them — speaking 
out when I shouldn't, stooping 
to pick up something I dropped 
instead of waiting for the gen- 
tlemanly gesture of the man 
with whom I'm talking — 
bumped heads the result! Us- 
ing the wrong fork, just be- 
cause I'm absent-minded about 
such things. The result — I 
blush always and make foolish 
stuttering remarks trying to 
cover up. 

53. (0) If you had a daughter of sixteen 

would you allow her to smoke or 
drink, or to go out unchaperoned? 

(A) No. Decidedly. 

54. (0) Is it easy for you to trust people 

or are you inclined to be sus- 
picious and on the defensive? 
(A) I am very suspicious and on 
the defensive . . . always have 
been . . . and make dozens of 
inquiries before accepting any 
plan or business proposition 
put up to me. 

55. (0) Do you think women should dye 

their hair to hide grayness? 
(A) If they work for a living, yes. 

56. (0) How do you act when being inter- 

(A) Very cagey, because I dread 
being misquoted. 

57. (0) Are you superstitious? 

(A) Yes, I'm a wood-knocker. 

58. (Q) Do you prefer the company of 

men or women, and why? 
(A) Miss Colbert took the conse- 
quence Jean Arthur thought 
up last month. (Arrange your 
hair in its most unbecoming 
style and have your picture 

59. (0) Do you believe women should take 

an active part in politics, voting, 
etc., and do you? 

(A) No, and I have never voted 

60. (0) What bad habit do you have 

which annoys your friends? 
(A) Slipping garlic into the soup 
when I invite them for a i 
French dinner. 







There is something about her 

that makes you think of 

willow saplings swaying in the wind 

...that something is known 

as a Foundette 

Designed to coax your figure into 
youthful cunti. Tiii lighlueight 
ml "Laitex" *Found«ie, uitb its 
uonder-uorking new front pant I of 
one-uay stretch "Lastex'" meth, 
gires smooth control ottr abdomen 
and diaphragm . . . tut still keeps 
jt«» fret and lithe. Ertuiug hack. 
Imported net bandeau top. Stylo 
4313. At all bettor stores. 


'Vmn of "Lastex" yam 




* ON EAftTH , 


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a ke& 

Sonja Heme's New Prince Charming 

(Continued from page 29) 

because I wanted to do something dif- 
ferent. I had done only solo numbers 
for so long, I thought perhaps my audi- 
ences would appreciate a change." 

"I am sure they appreciate thi 

"As for choosing Stewart Reburn 
. . ." she smiled again, "well, in consid- 
ering possible partners, I could think of 
only two, but one of those two was a 
solo skater like myself which really 
simmered the situation down to one 
choice — the one I made. 

"I had seen Stewart skate at Lake 
Placid in the 1932 Olympics and again 
at Garmisch-Partenkirchen, in 1936. 
He was paired with a Canadian girl 
named Louise Bertram and I never for- 
got him. He had, as you say, 'what it 
takes,' not only as a skater, but as a 
personality. And so . . ." she made a 
little gesture with hands and shoulders, 
"I wired him in Toronto and asked him 
to meet me in New York upon my re- 
turn from Norway last summer. He 
met me there and the agreement was 

"Did you skate together before he was 
signed up for the Revue?" I asked her. 

"No," she said and the dimples played 
hard in her cheeks. "I suppose it was 
very unbusinesslike of me, but I was so 
sure we should get on perfectly, and 
there was no ice available just then, and 
so . . . well, actually, we never skated 
together until just two weeks ago to- 

"I'll admit," she added, "that I was a 
little nervous the day we met in the 
Palace, here, for our first rehearsal. But 
it worked out all right." 

IES, it "worked out all right." A friend 
of mine who had witnessed that initial 
rehearsal told me it "worked out" from 
the instant those two joined hands on 
the ice. 

Sonja had selected the music and had 
planned the steps they were to do. "I'll 
show you," she said to Reburn. But al- 
most before she finished the first figure, 
he was at her side, timing his own 
strokes to hers, sensing, as only a 
trained pair-skater can, what would 
come next. And before that brief hour 
was over, the Gade tango was a beauti- 
ful thing to see. 

"You're good," Sonja said simply, 
when they had finished. 

And he, blushing with pleasure at this 
praise from the queen of all skaters, 
withal he is himself a champion, replied, 
huskily. "Thank you, Sonja. This is a 
proud moment for me." 

"And what about it?" I asked Sonja 
on the night of the premiere. "Wouldn't 
you like to have him in a picture with 

Her answer was ready and frank. 
"Yes, I would. I hope he can be in my 

And so, since Sonja is a young lady 
who almost always gets her own way, 
we might be seeing him at our neigh- 
borhood theater one of these days when 
the tour of the Hollywood Ice Revue is 
ended. You can't tell. . . . 

I ALSO met the young man in question, 
that night. He has the clear complexion 
and clipped speech of a Dick Greene. 
His hair is light brown, thick and slick; 
his eyes are gray and smiling; his mouth 
full, yet finely chiseled. When he speaks. 
he looks at you with engaging direct- 
ness; when you speak, he listens with 
flattering attention. He is of medium 
height and finely proportioned. If too 
tall, he would appear incongruous be- 
side the diminutive Sonja. 

The two of them met in 1934 on a 
Saturday afternoon at a waltzing ses- 
sion in the Toronto Skating Club. Sonja, 
then an amateur, was there to headline 
the Toronto carnival. Howard Ridout, 
president of the club, introduced them. 
Young Reburn remembers all of this 
perfectly. He remembers, too, being 
so thrilled that he stumbled over his 
skates "like a clumsy lout." Of course, 
they had seen each other skate at Lake 
Placid two years before. 

"At least," he adds modestly, "I saw 
her. Who wouldn't?" 

It was a strange thing the way fate 
brought him to Sonja's side and back 
into skating. After winning a list of 
championships a yard or so long, he and 
his partner, Miss Bertram, captured the 
Canadian Pairs Championship and the 
Minto Cup which, he confided to me, 
was their goal. They retired, then, un- 
defeated, and Stewart, deciding it was 
high time he made a niche for himself 
in the world of business, started to sell 
advertising. Then came the wire from 
Sonja, the trip to New York, the Holly- 
wood Ice Revue, a new life. 

ROMANTIC? Of course it is! Two peo- 
ple — so young, so attractive, neither in 
love with anyone else, and they have 
such fun together! 

Naturally, I didn't ask them, "Is there 
a romance in the offing?" Such a ques- 
tion would only have embarrassed them. 
But I said to myself, if there is not, 
there should be. 







your answers to the 




e 1 ! with these correct ones: 


Donald Crisp 

7. James Cagney 

14. Richard Barthel- 


Gary Cooper 

8. Gene Lockhart 



Ann Sothern 
Charles Chaplin 

9. Frances Farmer 
10. Claudette Colb 

15. Lionel Barrymore in 

"A Family Affair" 


Gale Page 

1 1. Wayne Morris 

16. Nancy Kelly 

Ann Sheridan 

12. Mickey Rooney 

17. Shirley Temple 


George Raft 

1 3. Henry Fonda 

18. Richard Greene 

19. James 

Roosevelt 20. 

Joan Crawford 



Melvyn of the Movies 

i Continued jrom page 67) 

rejoicing and entrained for Chicago, 
furiously convinced in his seventeen- 
year-old mind that there was no honor 
or justice left in the world and that all 
women were inherently untrustworthy. 

Melvyn Hesselberg had spent an en- 
tire adolescence eagerly protesting 
against an order of things that was con- 
ventional and hidebound. Perhaps it 
was his mixed ancestry . . . Edouard 
Hesselberg, his musician father, was 
Russian-born; his mother a Kentuckian, 
with muddled English and harsh Scotch 
blood in her veins. They were people 
of a small world, of intense posses- 

In retrospect, Melvyn could remem- 
ber many things that directly or indi- 
rectly had influenced him: the Macon, 
Georgia house, furnished for comfort 
but not stylized; the music his father 
made which frightened him; the new 
house in Nashville; then a year in Ger- 
many; there was being eleven and mov- 
ing to Toronto; his attempt to join the 
army at the age of fifteen and having 
his father quietly obtaining his release; 
and the girl from the burlesque show 
he had met; then there was the break 
with his family, back in Lincoln, Ne- 
braska, in 1917; so there had been no 
one to stop him from joining the army. 
But the war had ended and now he was 
on his own again. 

WlTH the mad winter of 1918, his new 
adult life began. He had gone to Chi- 
cago because the break with his family 
had been a clean one and he was deter- 
mined to keep it so. There was that 
winter, and his first job, which was 
selling pianos, and the room he took: 
faded wallpaper, stained bathtub, the 
peculiar smell old rooming houses have; 
and there was quitting the job, because 
there wasn't enough work attached and 
his conscience hurt at taking the money, 
and there was the next job, in which 
he read gas meters, and there was the 
next job after that, as salesman in a 

He met William Owen then, through 
the intervention of some strange provi- 
dence. Owen was a retired stage star 
with a penchant for helping young 
theatrical aspirants; and he was im- 
pressed with Melvyn, so that within a 
week the boy was established comfort- 
ably in Owen's residence, working at 
sundry jobs to pay his way, and study- 
ing Shakespeare under Owen's tutelage, 
and eating at Owen's table, and gener- 
ally being a pet protege of Owen — 
which suited them both. 

Thus, sheltered and protected, Melvyn 
had the freedom of time and energy to 
flounder with his fellows in the imme- 
diate post-War mire. There were many 
to keep him company, acquired through 
Owen and Owen's circle, and there was 
plenty of mire. His acquaintances were 
sundry, but all of a kind of pattern; 
they were young writers, artists, actors, 
intellectuals with a leaning toward 
much conversation, and they had spo- 
radic creative intervals. They liked 
Turgeniev, the early Greeks, gin and 
four o'clock in the morning. They were 
Chicago's Greenwich Village set and, 
because of their vitality and the scope 
of their ideas, they were good for 

He spent five years in Chicago. A few 
things, names, events — vividly remem- 
bered now — are typical. 

There was the arrival of Prohibition. 
Melvyn and his friends collected other 
friends and all the money all of them 
had and, having spent the resultant 
large sum (there were 150 in the party) 

on liquor, settled down to a celebrant 
bender. It lasted three days, during 
which a little over 100 of the guests 
passed or dropped out of the group, un- 

The remainder, led by Melvyn, were 
still going strong on the last night; with 
what change they had left, these heart- 
ies trouped down to the Congress Hotel 
where they found most of Chicago 
tipsily lined up at the bar. At the far 
end was a coffin containing the recum- 
bent figure of John Barleycorn; and 
the crowd was filing past to kiss him 
good-by. This was not too sanitary a 
gesture but it had its value, since, as 
each mourner's lips touched those of 
John, a squirt of liquor shot out to 
cheer the parting. 

NlNETEEN-NINETEEN drifted past, 
with the main difference to Melvyn that 
Shakespeare began to make infinite 
sense and that Edouard Hesselberg be- 
gan to have financial difficulties; where- 
upon his son, with sudden renascence 
of filial regard, felt he had better get 
busy and make some extra money. This 
was accomplished in the next year, 
when Owen organized a Repertoire 
Company, made Melvyn one of the 
leads, and went on the road. 

When that was over the good Mr. 
Owen, whose health had failed, planted 
his protege as first lead with John Kel- 
lard's road company, at $60 a week. 

Melvyn 's 1920 tour with the Kellard 
company ended abruptly in Toronto, 
where Melvyn found himself without a 
nickel but with a wealth of experiences 
to consider. These, however, were not 
negotiable; and he was hungry. He 
walked along the early autumn streets 
of the Canadian city, his coat collar 
up against the cold, his hands deep in 
his empty pockets, and confronted 

There were alternatives. He could 
wire home for money, return to the 
possessive Lena and Edouard. Or he 
could call Owen collect. The first was 
refuted by the decisive pattern that he 
had been building in his mind through 
the years; the second, by shame. 

He stood staring into a shop window, 
blind to the contents, trying to think. 
A man. shabby and with a face that 
showed only resignation and a disincli- 
nation for the razor, came to stand be- 
side him. After a moment the man 
said, "I was going to ask you for coffee 
money. Bud. But you're flat, ain't you?" 

"How did you know?" 

''Y' get so you can tell, after a while. 
Listen. The cardboard from packages 
is better in your shoes than the kind the 
laundry puts in shirts, because of the 
glaze. It lasts longer." After a moment 
the man added. "No friends, Bud?" 

"No," Melvyn said. Then he turned 
to stare at the fellow. "Yes! I'd for- 
gotten . . ." He reached in his pocket 
and found a quarter. "Here. And 

Melvyn began to trot down the street. 

He found a phone booth in a drug- 
store. "Information," he said into the 
mouthpiece. . . . 

A moment later he was saying, "John- 
nie, I punched your nose once at school 
and now you're going to invite me to 

I HAT night, at dinner, he watched his 
host plunge a fork into a plump roast 
chicken and saw the golden juice of 
chestnut dressing run out. His stomach 
fluttered impatiently. "Now then," the 
host muttered, carving. 
By the open fire, afterwards, Melvyn 

tylcce &i& guard against 

body odor with this 
lovely perfumed soap! 
















oviuiBi^ m^Ihe cosu!!5«E«MI 












SO HARD ? ' 

HERE'S HOW he does it. He 
keeps a package of this famous 
Beech-Nut peppermint gum on his 
desk. What a pleasant way to 
relieve the tension! 

Beech -Nut 

Vmt ih. BttchNui Building al th* KUw York 
World't Fair. If you driv*, tlop al Canojohori*, 
N. Y. and >•• how BsectvNul producti or* mad*. 

nd blinked vaguely. 

"But. I'm still in a spot," he 

.viul "Nut I wouldn't like camping 

in tin- middle of your dining-room 

Hut what goes OS from hi 

' Why not get a job in Toronto and 

It's not m bad " 
"A job?" Melvyn railed an eyebrow. 
"I'm an actor. It's the winter season, 

you know that " 

Hi fi -fend .shrugged. "Those who 

em't. comma, teach. You're stalled just 

aa an actor. So teach other people 

to be actors. Open a dramatic school." 

There was a long silence, while Mel- 
vyn considered. Then he said, "God 
pity Canada's future crop of actors. I 
will do it." 

Three months later he sat in his 
rooms, checked his resources, and found 
he had been able to save a hundred dol- 
lars. Methodically he cut two pieces in 
the shape of inner soles of glazed card- 
board from a package, put them away 
as mementos of the summer and on the 
of the package printed in block let- 
ters: "Sorry. But you're in a rut any- 
way." He opened the door and tacked 
the sign in the middle of the panels, for 
his students to find the next day. They 
had not, after all, paid him for the past 

Then he packed his clothes and caught 
the first train for Chicago. 

I HE years blazed by, then, in a bright 
procession: 1921, and the summer, and 
the song that said, "Tomorrow, tomor- 
row, how happy I will be," and the com- 
munity house for actors at which Mel- 
vyn Hesselberg lived, after the hundred 
dollars was gone. The classical theater, 
with stage and settings hand-built in 
the back yard of the community house, 
which he conceived and created with a 
friend named Gale Sondergaard; and 
the success of the theater, with resultant 
prosperity and expensive hilarity. 

That summer he met the girl who, at 
long last, made him forget Anne. . . . 

But she had Anne's propensity for 
hurting him, so that in the following 
winter he came one afternoon to his 
room, once again packed his bags, called 
the Chautauqua Troupe manager to ac- 
cept the job he had offered and left on 
tour that afternoon. 

It was the end of the Chicago inter- 
lude. Essentially, he was unchanged. 

And it was 1922 — the Chautauqua 
company was a kind of Evangelical So- 
ciety arrangement, playing week-long 
stands in tiny Wisconsin and Illinois 
hamlets; through it Melvyn got a little 
closer to raw America, the bigoted, the 
intolerant, the childishly unsophisticated 

Observing with detachment, he found 
that he had no feeling of scorn for the 
country people whose ideas were so dif- 
ferent. Rather, he caught himself 
studying them, understanding their 
viewpoints, liking and envying the sim- 
plicity of their emotions. 

The change, the growing up, was hap- 
pening to him slowly. It would take a 
shock-incident (which •would be in- 
evitable, of course) to snap him clear. 
But that would come later. . . . 

AMERICA rolled full blast, shouting 
gleefully, into its most prosperous dec- 
ade. A young intellectual .Melvyn had 
met earlier, named Ben Hecht, wrote a 
play and got it produced. The manu- 
script which another contemporary of 
Melvyn's had been working on had been 
published and now formed an endless 
m in the windows of bookshops 
across the nation: "This Side of Para- 
read the bright jackets, "by F. 
Scott Fitzgerald." "What Price Glory?" 
asked theater marquees, everywhere. 
uiahjong came in. and went out. Ra- 
dios grew loud-speakers. And in Sioux 
City, Iowa, progress came to Melvyn 
Hesselberg when a modern stock corn- 

May we present Mr. and Mrs. 
Wayne Morris! The bride was 
Bubbles Schinasi, daughter of 
a New York tobacco importer. 
Is Wayne the proud husband! 

pany, full-rigged and really profes- 
sional, hired him as leading man to an 
experienced lady for $50 a week. 

By the time, some months later, the 
company was ready to move to Madison, 
Wisconsin, his salary had been raised to 
$65 and he was an official asset. 

Although he could not know it, the 
highly evolved personality toward 
which he had been working was crys- 
tallizing. His wild, uncharted rebellion 
against convention was assuming an in- 
telligent aspect, despite the fact that his 
emotions were as muddled as ever. In 
any case, he was shrewd enough, when 
the chance came, to leave his job and 
start his own stock company with back- 
ing from friends. 

In it he alternated the Up-In-Mable's- 
Room type of thing with classic plays. 
The experiment was pretty successful, 
except that the farces, by the over- 
whelming attention given them by Mel- 
vyn's college acquaintances, had to sup- 
port the Art, which went almost unat- 

Nevertheless, this was accomplishment. 
This was something to get his teeth into. 
This was sufficient. . . . 

UNTIL, on New Year's Eve, 1924 and 
the final adjustment of Melvyn Hessel- 
berg to the social order in which he 
lived were ushered in simultaneously 
with the banging on his apartment door 
of the Madison, Wisconsin police. 

He had, earlier, met an architect and 
subsequently had taken the upper floor 
of one of his apartment buildings. Here 
young Mr. Hesselberg lived, rehearsed 
and entertained the many people he had 
met during the long Madison residence. 
And here, on the last night of 1924, he 
decided to give a party to end all par- 

"Have a good time," he enjoined each 
one, upon arrival. 

And they did — such a noisy, such an 
unfettered good time, indeed, that at 
eleven-thirty the landlady gave a shake 
to her ponderous bosom, donned her 
uncompromising pince nez and called 
the riot squad. 

Melvyn himself opened the door to 
them. He had thought this might hap- 
pen. He was ready. Now, for all time, 
would the riot-act be read. 

He launched into it with fervor. 

After ten minutes his audience found 
him still impassioned but repetitious. 
They took him, and his guests, away. 

The night court judge, peering be- 
nevolently over the bench, released 
them, of course. But during the next 
weeks Melvyn could not help admitting 
a chastened mood; further — he knew 
suddenly that he was bored with the life 
he had been leading, that he had a case 
of mental indigestion. 

At the end of three weeks, his tradi- 
tion of rebellion shaken because its ba- 
sic reason was lost, but with rebellion 
still a necessity since he was what he 
was, Melvyn stopped one day before the 
show window of a travel agency. The 
gaudy placards, inviting him to far and 
romantic places, seemed to hold the an- 
swer to his immediate problem. He 
went inside to ask for some folders and 
came out with a ticket — to Europe. 

The stock company had been going 
great guns all winter. It was at the 
peak of its success. But for the first 
time in his life Melvyn had a respect- 
able sum of money in the bank; he 
needs must prove this accomplishment 
to himself in some special manner. 

Also, he was thoroughly sick of this 
guy Melvyn Hesselberg, who couldn't 
seem to make up his mind clearly about 
life. Maybe, in a different and oldei 
world, he might find the answer to ev- 
erything, if there were one. . . . 

He had $1200. It kept him in Europe 
for the entire summer — in Paris for a 
time, then in a small coast town where 
the people were simple and real and 
where he could learn French at first 
hand; he went for a long walking trip 
up the coast of Normandy; he met an 
American architect who had just re- 
turned from bicycling across the Con- 
tinent and, taking the cue, Melvyn 
bought a bike and set out. 

When the summer was over, he caught 
the boat home with a sense of relief. 
In the mirror his eyes returned his stare, 
clear and untroubled. 

The cure had worked. 

As he got off the boat, with $68 in his 
pocket, a Western Union boy was mo- 
notonously calling his name. He took 
the wire. It was from a girl he had 
known for years in Chicago, and it said 
simply: "I've missed you." 

He remembered the way her mouth 
looked when she smiled and the amber 
glint of her hair under light. He re- 
membered her voice. It was enough. 

He went directly to Chicago. 

On the table damask in the Edgewater 
Beach Club's dining room he told her, 
"Something's changed me. I don't mean 
I've gone long-hair — but when I do 
things now I know why. I know wha' 
I want. One thing — I want you." 

She was silent. 

"Will you marry me?" Melvyn asked . 

"This minute?" 

"I mean tomorrow." 

She smiled slowly. "I'll have to give 
up a luncheon date. But I guess it's 
worth it. Okay." 

It lasted a year, and netted him a son, 
a confusion of experiences, twelve 
months of anxious, hard work and, fi- 
nally, a divorce. 

The trouble had been that he had mis- 
taken her for love — for which he was 
ready at last — when in reality she was 
only the symbol of that love. . . . 

There was just one woman with whom 
Melvyn Douglas could find happiness. 
His meeting with her, their life together 
in Hollywood and his fight against film 
success conclude Douglas' unusual story 
In April Photoplay 



Tyrone Power's Own Story 

Continued from page 10 | 

he airport with huge bunches of flow- 
;rs. It's their charming custom to bid 
,'isitors a successful crossing in this 
nanner. We couldn't get out of the 
Diane. The actual place where we 
:rossed the line was called Quito, but 
*-e landed at Guayaquil at six. After a 
luick dinner, made a personal appear- 
ince at the local Fox theater and then 
o bed. 

The Count Theo Rossi whom Ty men- 
ions is one of the world's most eligible 
bachelors and the heir to the famous 
vermouth millions of the famous Martini 
t Rossi firm. So can you imagine what 
t must have done to the babes of Ecu- 
idor to have two such bachelors pile 
tut of one plane — to say nothing of 
Sill, who is a bachelor, too, and most 
■ligible, though wary? 


IT the airport at five-thirty A.M. to 
ake off for Arica, Chile. This early- 
o-bed, early-to-rise stuff is just like 
«ing on a picture shooting schedule, 
t's worth it, though, if for no other rea- 
on than seeing the sunrise from the 
jr. That's always a thriller. Our first 
top, at Talara, Peru, very surprising 
m two scores. The place looks just 
ike any other oil town, only here it is 
ompletely surrounded by desert. Then 
hree girls turned up who proved to be 
rom Tulsa, Oklahoma. Only came down 
t Lima long enough to refuel, but the 
ity looked so beautiful from the air I 
irish we had arranged to stop here for 
few days. We flew over some Inca 
uins this afternoon and climbed up 
6.000 feet to land at a city named 
irequipa. It is situated at the base of 
It. Chachani, which is 20.000 feet high, 
rith two other mountains of almost 
qual height towering alongside. Pushed 
m to Arica, getting there at six, so dog 
ired we didn't even stop to eat. Just 
egistered at the hotel and made a dive 
or the hay. 


HE first dull day of the whole trip, 
ill the fault of stormy weather. Out 
t seven this morning headed for San- 
iago, but held out dodging thunder 
torms and barely got in in time to be 
net by Mr. Ruscica, the 20th Century- 
\>x representative down here, and to 
;o with him to a dinner given by the 
epresentatives of the major motion-pic- 
ure companies. Bowling after dinner 
it the Union Club; got back to the 
lotel at two A.M. 


lOT going up in a plane this morning. 
5own to earth for three whole days, 
which is a relief for a change, and the 
:ity looks charming. Took a drive to 
Valparaiso and Vina del Mar. (Wonder 
f the "Bad Girl" author got her name 
Tom this town.) Lunched with mem- 
Jers of the local press in the Castillo, 
» very modern restaurant overlooking 
he harbour of Valparaiso. In the after- 
ioon. after a sight-seeing trip around 
he city, I had the pleasure of meeting 
he mayor of Vina del Mar, who in- 
cited Bill and me to be his guests at 
i dinner at the Casino. Did we feel 
sappy when we arrived in our old 
slacks, open-neck shirts and sports 
»ats and everybody else formal? 


DlDXT stir till lunch which I had with 
Darryl Zanuck's mother, Mrs. Norton, 


who happens to be visiting here, too. 
We went on to the races and in the 
evening were guests of the American 
Ambassador for cocktails and then for i 
dinner at a local golf club. 


I WO weeks out of Hollywood. It 
seems like two years, not restful ones, 
certainly, but better, exciting ones. 
Could have stayed on in Santiago for 
another month, but we're scheduled to 
plane out today for Buenos Aires. Up 
over the Andes we had to sniff oxygen 
as were flying at an altitude of 19.000 
feet. From the plane it looked as 
though you could reach out and touch 
the sides of the mountains, but the 
steward said we weren't within a mile 
of the nearest peak. It adds up to one 
of the most thrilling and beautiful plane 
trips it is possible to take. 

Before I even stepped out of the 
plane, they came on board with a mi- 
crophone and asked me to say how I 
liked the city. And I'd only seen it 
from the air! Later, though, prowling 
around it I discovered how beautiful it 
was. Grand surprise here. Met two old 
pals of mine who are living down here 
and they insisted Bill and I be their 
guests during our stay here, which will 
be for five days. Delighted to accept. 

/ asked Ty if the press was just as 
horrible wherever you hit it. He said 
in that voice of his that could mean 
anything, "Why I love the press." Bill 
it was who explained that reporters are 
tough enough when you all speak the 
same language, but when a star has to 
speak through an interpreter, then the 
going gets really rough. Bill said, 
though, that Hollywood reporters might 
add some of the extreme Spanish- 
speaking politeness to their repertoire to 
which Mr. Power simply murmured, 
"Tsk, tsk," still very mockingly. 


oORRY couldn't keep up with a diary. 
Hardly could keep up with myself. 
We've been all over Buenos Aires, 
shopped for shoes, shirts and some 
badly needed fresh linen; have seen the 
polo matches, the races, the opening of 
a midget auto race track; visited two 
movie studios; drove out to a estancia 
to watch the gauchos give a demonstra- 
tion of their superb horsemanship. Talk 
about going to town and what a town 
this is to go to! 

When Tyrone went to make a per- 
sonal appearance at the Buenos Aires 
Fox theater, the house manager cau- 
tioned him, just before his going on 
stage, "not to fall in the hole." This 
puzzled the star of the evening no end, 
as the theater was a very grand, new 
one. But, when he stepped out, he dis- 
covered the whole front row of seats 
and part of the stage had been removed 
and a stout iron railing put in back of 
this "hole" to keep the fans where they 
couldn't clutch him personally. What 
happened, however, was that the entire 
audience rushed for the rail and stood 
there en masse, gazing adoringly up at 
him. This close proximity to his audi- 
ence upset even the Power poise. 


UUR third week ended. We're leaving 
for Rio de Janeiro. When we land there, 
we'll be down for another complete 
week. too. That means half my vacation 
is over. I can't believe it's gone or 
that I've seen half what I've seen. It's \ 

No smart woman risks offending — 

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HIS FIRST "I LOVE YOU "—the thrill- 
ing proposal, then the honeymoon 
—those axe memories every woman 
hopes will never die. But it's so easy 
for a wife to think that time will 
strengthen love— to feel that, because 
her husband loved her once, he'll love 
her always! 

Don't make that fatal mistake! Don't 
risk losing out in love because you're 
careless about underarm odor. Before 
you've won him— and after, too— avoid 
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MARCH, I 939 


TheAdmiral looks 
grim but he's a great 
guy! At the formal reception 
to the fleet, he asked me did 
I have any Beeman's Gum. 
When I drew a fresh pack- 
age out of my bag, his 
eyes twinkled like harbor 

"Just the life preserver I was 
perishin' for!" he said with a 
grin. "The refreshing tang of 
that Beeman's flavor makes s 
even shore duty a pleasure. 
It's fresh as a 20-knot breeze. 
Beeman's is the code word for 
a delicious treat any time. A 
salvo of thanks, my dear!" 
And the Admiral actually 

.ill of it. Porto Algere 

OUT only itop IjUlWWII Buenos Aires 

;ind Rio, but the most enthusiastic re- 

n yet thi °t Rio in 

the press, and 

then, with Darke de Mattos to 1» 

i day on hi> Island of Paqueta. 
iDOUt fifteen miles off the main- 


■it lien 1 , children, li where Ty 

; telling tlie half o/ it. He 

U you that in Buenos Aires 

hundred women, braving a heavy 

rain, broke a police cordon at the Moron 

• i i we did not make that 
up; that's really what it's called). Win- 
in the air]>ort administration 
building were broken as the lovelorn 
Indies tried to make a grab at our hero. 
■ pie fainted; several got hysterical; 
Ty escaped tlirough a back door and 
into a waiting taxi. He wasn't feeling 
too elegant, anyhoic. wiiat with an arm 
tliat had been nearly pulled off by the 
frantic mob in Porto Algere. 

But that omission is as nothing 
against his not reporting that Annabella 
was in Rio de Janeiro and that she, 
too, went out to the island of Mr. de 
Mattos for the day. In fact, she had 
lunched at the Santos Dumont airport, 
apparently awaiting his arrival, but 
when she saw the crush of other women 
who were likewise waiting there — and 
for the very same purpose — she left 
and returned to the Copocabana Hotel 
where her suite was two floors above 
the one reserved for Ty. However, be- 
fore he arrived there, she had checked 
out, only to meet him later in the day 
in Mr. de Mattos' launch. 

He doesn't mention, and no one would 
expect him to, that when Annabella was 
interviewed in Paris in late October 
after she got her divorce and was asked 
if she were going to marry again, she 
said: "I marry Tyrone Power? But that 
is silly. He is a nice boy, but that is 
all. Hollywood is the reason for our 
(she meant herself and M. Murat's) di- 
vorce. Our work separates us for so 
long that it is impossible for us to 
remain married." 

At that time, the papers said that she 
planned to sail for America about the 
middle of November. All of which 
seems to have been true, except that 
she didn't say which America, and it 
turned out to be South, not North. 

Tuesday to Monday 

BACK to Rio de Janeiro for another 
crowded week. I guess I'm a genuine 
tourist, for I always want to see all the 
local sights and I never fail to get a 
kick out of them. I got something more 
than that here, though, for I shall never 
forget the sight of that statue of Christ 
of Corcovado, which dominates the en- 
tire city and the harbor. The bird's-eye 
view of the city and its beaches from 
there is of breath-taking loveliness. We 
went up to see this statue by daylight 
and then stayed on so that we could see 
it when the sun was down and the lights 
were on it. It was the great moment of 
the trip and I shall always remember 
the beauty of it. We did lots of other 
sight-seeing, too. Went with Annabella 
to a charity dinner given by the wife of 
the President for the newsboys of Rio. 
We visited a night club where we heard 
the native carnival music, the Samba, 
of which I bought all the recordings I 
could find. We toured to every spot 
anyone recommended and they were all 

Here all I can remark is that "we" is 
a wonderful word. "I" can only mean 
one person, but "ire" can mean any- 
where from three to three hundred or. 
Important, it can mean just two. 
Certainly Tyrone and Annabella dined 
and danced and went sight-seeing to- 

gether fur that week in the romantic 
South American capital and most cer- 
tainly there is no reason why they 
shouldn't have, particularly if they are 
in lot>e, and nothing would surprise me 
less. For I have seen them together and 
I've heard the •pedal note tJidt comes 
into Ty's voice when he speaks of An- 
nabella and if it isn't love it is. at least, 
a major interest that might ripen into 
almost anything. 

Fame makes it hard, however, to cap- 
ture the moments of "we two together 
and the world shut out" which all ro- 
mantically interested people crave. Still, 
if all the world loves a lover, even 
when the hirer is just Joe Smith who 
works in the Stevens garage and the 
girl is Mary Brown who lives on Main 
Street, Averageville, what can anyone 
expect when, as in this case, the boy 
is one of the handsomest and most reg- 
ular young men ever to come to fame, 
the girl is a honey-haired charmer from 
Paris with laughing eyes and a seduc- 
tive voice, and the setting of their pos- 
sible courtship is lighted with a tropical 
moon, and shot through at long dis- 
tance with the glitter and glamour that 
Hollywood sheds so lavishly over its 
favored children? Naturally, the public 
is interested. Both these stars under- 
stand that interest. Just the same, it got 
too difficult for them, what with re- 
porters and photographers dogging their 
very footsteps. Thus the next diary 
entry reads: 


OAW Annabella off on a plane to Bue- 
nos Aires in the morning. In the after- 
noon returned to the airport to meet 
Count Rossi. 


DILL and I have decided to finish our 
journey by boat. Within two hours 
(plenty rushed, however) we had ar- 
ranged passage, cancelled our plane res- 

That the well-dressed gal 
wears mink and the well- 
dressed man stripes and plaids 
is indicated by Janet Gaynor 
and Adrian, a happy twosome 

ervations and packed. We boarded the 
boat from a launch just before sailing 
time and stood at the rail of the ship 
till Rio. that beautiful city, disappeared 
from view. 

Tliere was one very amusing incident 
that Ty forgot to record in those last 
three days in Rio. One night he and 
Bill were invited to a formal evening 
par[y. While they were dressing, they 
discovered tliat somewhere in their 
travels they had lost a dress tie. It left 
them with just one black tie between 
them, since, naturally, traveling by 
plane they were tiaveling as light as 
possible. They checked all the neigh- 
borhood shops, but found them all 
closed. So, since two men can't go out 
for a formal evening with one black 
tie between them, they tossed for it to 
see who'd get the date, and Bill won. 
Just as the Power was sitting there, 
wondering what he'd do with the empty 
evening and wishing he had brought 
along some money with heads on both 
sides, a waiter came in to inquire what 
they'd like done about their breakfast. 
The boys took one look and then tried 
to explain, in their limping Spanish, 
that they had no interest in breakfast 
but that they were fascinated by his tie 
— in fact, they wished to borrow it. 
The waiter finally understood what they 
wanted, but not why, and I'll wager if 
he told his wife about the incident when 
he went home he's never seen that par- 
ticular tie (which was returned to him 
the next morning) again. Madame 
Waiter will undoubtedly have tucked it 
away to show to her grandchildren 
some day. 


OPENT the day exploring the ship. 
When dinner was announced I made a 
sudden dash for the dining room. The 
sea air had really given me an appe- 
tite. Halfway down the stairs to the 
dining room I paused and decided I 
didn't need any food at all that night. 
In fact, I nearly gave up what I had. 
Mai de mer had caught up with me. 


I EEL fine again. No more seasickness. 
Bill and I spent all our time on deck 
in our bathing suits, that is, every pos- 
sible second we could. I played the 
usual deck games, but swimming suited 
me best. In the evening we played 
bingo and saw some motion pictures, the 
first since leaving Hollywood. 


UUR first sight of land in over a week. 
We have put in at Trinidad. Had five 
hours on shore stretching our legs and 
looking over the town. Sailed at mid- 
night. The last leg of our journey. I'll 
be glad to get back but, in another way, 
I hate to give all this up. 


We land in New York tomorrow. We 
are in the Gulf Stream and heading into 
a heavy storm and the first cold weather 
we have experienced (except that one 
moment in Mexico) since leaving Los 
Angeles. We wish now we hadn't been 
so hasty in leaving that swell weather 
in Rio. 

Ty and Bill did come into New York 
the next day, and went up to the Pierre 
Hotel where Annabella was staying. 
All three of them took a plane out from 
Newark for Hollywood at five that after- 
noon. And there we leave them — and 
Mr. Power's journey and diary — with a 
deep bow for his courtesy in giving it 
all to Photoplay and with a bless you. 
my children, which is very much from 
the heart, too. 


We Cover the Studios 

(Continued from pags 5C) 

lore, Francis Lederer, Mary Astor and 
[edda Hopper, very much at home, all, 
i the super-luxurious setting. 
John Barrymore, in fact, is all over 
le place — even on the walls. As a sly 
jke. Director Mitchell Leisen had the 
ecorator paint all the gallant French 
eaux on the murals with a Barrymore 

You can sum up the plot of "Mid- 
ight'' pretty much like this: an Amer- 
an showgirl (Claudette) golddigs her 
ray through French society only to 
nd up with no money — but love in- 
;ead — and that with a taxi driver! 
hat's Don Ameche who is over from 
wentieth-Fox for his first loan-out. 
On the new and interesting side. 
Midnight" offers the "La Conga" (see 
le poem C. C. wrote on this dance, 
age 25), a dance that might be called 
le Big Apple or the rhumba, if you 
in picture that. They're planting it 
11 through the picture; so, after one 
•ip to the theater, you can swing it 

Our next two studio stops grow 
lore important each month — Walter 
danger and Hal Roach are making the 
lajors sit up and take notice by daring 
i give us something new and making 
5 like it, too. 

With "Algiers" and "Trade Winds" 
i live up to, Wanger is just winding 
p "Stagecoach," another Early West 
iga with the All-American touch. 

We've been chasing "Stagecoach" 
around for weeks, but it's as elusive a 
soap in a bathtub. Director John Ford 
is using six different Western locations 
to make its Wild West really wild, so 
Hollywood has hardly seen the com- 

We won't go into the plot except to 
say it all centers around a stagecoach 
ride through the Apache country that 
is pretty important to all the passen- 
gers — John Wayne, Claire Trevor, Andy 
Devine, George Bancroft and Louise 
Piatt, among others. 

The scene we see is the one where 
Indians threaten the Apache Wells 
stage depot, as Louise Piatt is about to 
have a baby. They're almost readv to 
go when a messenger runs on the set. 

"Mr. Devine," he says. 

Andy ambles over. The messenger 
says something and Andy almost does 
a cartwheel. "It's here!" he cries. His 
wife has just presented him with a 
real baby! 

"Go on home," says Ford. 

Well, we can hardly believe it our- 
selves — but while we're there another 
call comes and this time John Wayne 
rushes back, stammering that his wife 
is about to present him with an heir, 

"Go on home," says Ford. 

With the cast depleted by two real 
blessed events, there's not much chance 
to film the make-believe one! So 

"Ida Lupino and Warren William in a 
Columbia production based on the 

exploits of "THE LONE WOLF". 


Jesse James— 20th Century-Fox 

THE story of America's most famous, 
at least most romantic, outlaw is 
brought to the screen as a minor epic 
in this rousting, slam-bang Wild 

Jesse James was an exciting per- 
sonality and the pace at which he 
lived is caught up on celluloid in an 
hour or two of the fastest action you 
ever saw. Tyrone Power offers his 
own idea of what James is like and, 
in the main, you will find him per- 
sonable, although Hank Fonda, as his 
brother Frank, sometimes outshines 
him with quiet underplaying. Holly- 
wood must always find reasons for 
things and, it will have you know, the 
James Boys were forced into ban- 
ditry because of villainous railroad 
representatives, who killed their 
mother with a bomb. Whereupon, 
the two sons rush away to take their 
vengeance on the company. Finally, 
Jesse's Robin Hood complex is tinged 

with a Dillinger neurosis and he 
holds up trains and banks, just for 
the deviltry of it. The piece rings 
true after that. 

Nancy Kelly plays the Western 
girl who loves Jesse despite every- 
thing, shares his exile with him and 
bears his child. One is grateful to 
her for not looking beautiful except 
in accidental moments. In fact, the 
Technicolor camera is brutal to 
everyone, but this lends an authentic 
feeling. As for the action, you may 
expect plenty of shooting, several 
buckety-buckety chases, a jail break, 
lots of holdups and goodness knows 
what else. Randolph Scott, for the 
first time, is at home in his role of 
the marshal. Henry Hull is terrific 
as the country paper editor; John 
Carradine plays the Judas and Don- 
ald Meek is amusing as the railroad 
president. All the bits are beauti- 
fully done; production is tops. 

BEST PERFORMANCES— Henry Fonda, Tyrone Power 

Romance is sweeter 

when HANDS 
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Hollywood Star) 

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1ARCH , I 939 



. «i- go to 

I nd Hal Ho;u-h. 

sounds so much 
:yll that we can hardly 



Langdon was 

I as a gag man 

■ r a comeback 

WhaB Laurel stepped out, 

id Ilolly- 

D the 

Ha thought he was out out found he 
Ha and Stan Laurel are 

still r 
This story happens in 1870 in a Missis- 
n and the love theme between 
d James Ellison is strict- 
ly family pride stubborn love. 
The comedy enters when Harry Lang- 
don and his sick elephant come to town. 
Oliver Hardy, a horse doctor of sorts, 
cures the pachyderm who immediately 
■ crush on him and Harry sues for 
alienation of affections. 

I HE secret of making Zenobia care in 
a bii,' way for Oliver is a pocketful of 
apples. But there's no way to make 
Oliver care for Zenobia. In fact, it 
looks to us as though he's scared to 
death of his little playmate. When the 
poor beastie trumpets in his ear for 
another pippin, Babe steps out like 
Owens and yells bloody murder. 
It takes half the camera crew to haul 
him back. 

"She doesn't like me," says Oliver. 
"Let's rewrite the script and have her 
get a crush on Harry!" 

Harry isn't around to defend himself. 
But the trainer pooh-poohs Oliver's 
Zenobia. he says, is very affec- 
tionate and he'll prove it. Whereupon 

Ivaa die order and Zenobia's huge 
trunk coils out and embraces Oliver. 
The horrified Hardy shouts and screams 
are terrible to hear. 

Billie Burke, we hear, is the only 
member of the cast who goes for Zenobia 
in a big way. 

I HERE'S not one super-special on the 
Twentieth Century-Fox lot when we 
In a way. though, it's a relief to 
dodge the high-powered press agent 
adjectives and slip quietly on to the 
"Mr. Moto in Porto Rico" set. 

We like Mr. Moto. Charlie Chan is 
such a gentle, calm and unctious fellow, 
but Mr. Moto is more exciting. 

The action, though, is a little stuffy 
today — everybody's in white dinner 
jackets, everybody leers, everybody in- 
sinuates and looks mysterious — but 
nothing happens to raise our blood 
pressure, so we go over to Warners, hop- 
ing to see Errol Flynn, the battling 
Irishman, do a ki-yippee in "Dodge 
City." Errol must have heard about our 
plans, because the company retreated 
too far into the mountains for us to fol- 
low. Errol is a little sensitive about the 
kidding he's getting for playing a wild 
and woolly Kansas gunman — with his 

The best comes at the last of our 
studio circuit this month. We've been 
waiting far too long, it seems, for W. C. 
Fields and Charlie McCarthy to square 
off on the screen and for these delight- 
ful little schemers, the "Three Smart 
Girls," to get to work again. "Three 
Smart Girls Grow Up" is the title Uni- 
versal picks for Deanna Durbin's sequel 
to the film that made her famous. 

The trio are Deapna, Nan Grey and 
Helen Parrish. Charles Winninger and 
Nella Walker handle the adult side of 
the story, which isn't so important this 
time. Deanna devotes her busybody 

energies to fixing up romances for all 
the girl friends and ends by getting 
them in trouble instead. 

Henry Koster directs Deanna in an 
easy, rollicking manner. Every time 
he says something she curtsies with her 
ringers to her chin and says, "Yes, 
Monsieur Kostaire!" 

It seems strange to find W. C. Fields 
at Universal, after all his years with 
:iount. But there he is, the one 
and only Fields, fat and sassy again 
after his multiple miseries. And there 
is Charlie McCarthy, too, pert and im- 
pertinent as a miniature maharajah. 

"You Can't Cheat an Honest Man" is 
the marquee wrecker Fields himself 
cooked up to usher him back into a 
movie starring picture. It's Bill's story 
idea, too, and most of the gags are his. 

W. C. has cast himself in this film as 
the proprietor of a tank-town circus, 
one jump ahead of the sheriff. He 
spiels, sells tickets, doubles for the 
bearded lady and even has his own 
ventriloquist's dummy, "Oliver," to slip 
in when Charlie is indisposed. There 
are plot complications, mainly about a 
son and daughter Bill tries to keep 
away at school and out of circus life. 
But the fun's all around the big tent — 
Bill, Charlie, and Bergen. 

UN the Radio Rialto we find Hollywood 
stars very much in the headlines. 
Carole Lombard, with her usual flair 
for stealing the show, got caught be- 
tween hot fires when she signed for 
two big national shows, scheduled to 
appear on the air only a few days apart. 
Both Kellogg's new Hollywood airevue 
and the Gulf Co.'s Screen Actors' Guild 
program signed Carole on the dotted 
line. Both contracts specified she 
couldn't do another radio act inside 
thirty days. They were still wrangling 
over her fair white body when we left. 

Carole is the number one Hollywood 
picture draw on the air. 

Maxwell House's "Good News" has 
moved into the new NBC building from 
the El Capitan Theatre on Hollywood 
Boulevard. All the fans knew it at 
once; everybody, in fact, but Frank 

The first broadcasts after the switch, 
Frank was missing only minutes before 
the broadcast. His home said he had 
left for the broadcast. Somebody's 
bright idea sent a cab racing to the 
El Capitan. There was Frank, with his 
long gray hair sprouted for "The Wiz- 
ard of Oz," hanging around looking 
very perplexed. "This is Thursday, 
isn't it?" he inquired. "Yes," they told 
him, "but the show has moved." "Well," 
said Frank, "I suppose I'll have to move 
with it — ha, ha!" They got him there 
one minute before curtain! 

Frank and Ned Sparks have been 
trying to outdo one another in the rage 
for fancy costumes that has been mak- 
ing Hollywood stars a bunch of exhibi- 
tionists when they step before a mike. 
Ned's latest on the Texaco Star Theatre 
is a leopard skin and hairy legs a la 
Weissmuller. But the most amazing of 
all fancy costumes was Bing Crosby's 
full dress suit which he flashed the 
other day at NBC. Bing has been 
showing up for years in old flour sacks 
and something resembling Dixie Lee's 
kitchen curtains. The information boy 
wouldn't let him in the studio when he 
strolled in in tails! 

Jean Hersholt's decision to desert 
movies after twenty years and give all 
his time to his "Dr. Christian" broadcast 
may be an indication of the trend of 
Hollywood talent. Jack Haley wants 
to make radio his life's work now and 
Lionel Barrymore may give the movie 
lots the go-by before long and find him- 
self a steady job at the mike. 


"Swing-master" ARTIE SHAW 

ALWAYS FRESH! Doubly protected by not 
one but two jackets of Cellophane. OUTER 
jacket opens at bottom of pack. 

Copyright. 1930, by P. LorillardCcIl 

TUNE IN on "Melody and Madness" with ROBERT BENCHLEY and ARTIE SHAW'S Orchestra, Sunday Nights, Columbia Netwo 



Mr. Muni at Home 

(■Continued from page 27) 

lways doin' Miz Muni — thinkin' of 
he boss first." 

'"In other words," commented the 
oss, on hearing the story, "they're both 
iling me up." 

The third cherished member of the 
lousehold is Simon, the Airedale — so 
ailed after the character played by 
luni in "Counsellor at Law.'" Some 
ime ago they thought it would be nice 

have a second dog and bought a 
chnauzer. From the moment he was 
itroduced upon the scene, Simon lan- 
uished. Concerned for the newcom- 
r's welfare. Muni would steal out to 
lie laundry a dozen times a day to see 
whether he was too hot. whether he 
ranted a drink, whether he was lying 

1 a draft. Presently he got the uncom- 
jrtable feeling that Simon was watch- 
ig him, counting the number of his 
isits to the intruder. He began feel- 
lg apologetic. "After all. he's only a 
uppy, Simon," he explained. It was 
o use. Simon lapsed into melancholy, 
[e refused to make his regular morn- 
lg call with the cook on Mrs. Muni, 
[e refused to eat. He skulked under 
hairs. Even the magic word, "walk." 
armerly sufficient to drive him into 
;aping ecstasies, failed to move him 
ow. He merely lifted an apathetic 
ead and dropped it again. 

So the schnauzer was sent to friends 
nd Simon became a new man. '"What 
ould we do?" shrugs his master. "He's 
ur first-born." 

The house proper has three gathering 
laces. "This is the howjado room," 
ays Mrs. Muni, at the door of a lovely, 
armal drawing room. "We don't use it 
ery often — only when we have to live 
ip to the movies. This is the ranch 
oom — " 

The ranch room was transported al- 
lost bodily from the house in the val- 
sy. Even on this gray day it looked 
unny. Except for one turkey-red 
eauty. the soft chairs and sofas are 
overed in warm creams and taupes, to 
armonize with the nubbly rug. Low 
ables hold cigarette boxes and bowls 
f flowers and book shelves have been 
iuilt where they wouldn't interfere 
rith windows. 

"Up there was a Juliet balcony that 
sked for a Spanish shawl — " 

'But Juliet doesn't live here any 
nore. so we had it torn out." 

"Here's where I'm allowed to sit on 
he floor." said Muni. 

"And here's where he sits on the floor 
without permission," said Mrs. Muni, 
leading the way upstairs. 

A paneled, book-lined room, with a 
fireplace at one end and a desk at the 
window that overlooks the sea, is Mu- 
ni's study. Beside the desk, a small, 
pulpitlike stand held a large dictionary. 
Mrs. Muni displayed its points, while 
her husband squirmed — the light cun- 
ningly installed at the head of the in- 
cline, the cubbyhole for scripts behind, 
the catchall below. 

Muni designed it. "I sort of snick- 
ered when he was telling me about it. 
Another of Muni's brainstorms. I 
thought. But it really works — " 

" S terrific." said Muni airily. "I'm 
an inventioner." 

Here he does much of the work 
which will eventually be translated into 
one of those three-dimensional charac- 
terizations which he alone has brought 
to the screen. 

He's an early riser, gets up at seven 
unless he's been out till two or three, 
when he may loll till eight. 

Breakfast is brought to him at his 
desk. The morning papers and mail 
disposed of. he sets to work. 

MIS new contract gives him absolute 
decision over what he shall and shall 
not play. This makes him. not less, but 
more conscientious. "If I fail, I can lay 
the blame at no door but my own. I 
have no alibi." 

He reads and discards dozens of 

Eventually he finds a script, "which 
seems to come within my scope." The 
present one is "Juarez," now in produc- 
tion. But before it went before the 
cameras. Muni had read every scrap of 
material he could lay his hands on that 
had anything to do with Juarez. That 
is the way he works. 

Research goes on for weeks. When 
it's finished. Muni makes an ordered 
summary of his rough notes and dictates 
it to his secretary. The summary forms 
a basis of discussion with producer, di- 
rector and script writers, with whom he 
works closely, though not by any fixed 
and orthodox rules — "just in this 
searchy way I've evolved for myself." 

Through work and work and yet more 
work, he masters a characterization to a 
point where he can control its every 
shade and inflection. 

His day at the desk is broken by a 


The missing links in PHOTOPLAY'S picture 
story appearing on pages 46 and 47 are: 


Girl of the Golden 



All Quiet on the Western Front 






Dramatic School 




Four Daughters 


Big City 


Beloved Brat 


52nd Street 


Judge Hardy's 


There's That Woman Again 


Listen, Darling 


Mad About Music 


Boy Meets Girl 


Made for Each Other 




Vivacious Lady 


Young Doctor Kild 



Having Wonderful Time 


There Goes My Heart 


Road to Reno 

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MARCH , 1939 

KH4 J-OrtdwUX 





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[In. A 


walk among the hills, with Simon to 
him company. When he opens his 
dour. Simon knows he's getting 
oat Then lx-gins a frenzied leap- 
ing and bounding. He takes the stairs 
at one vault and heal In tai] B| 
the house door. If Muni's slow, he flies 
UP again and pulls him by the hand, 
careful even In his excitement to do no 
harm with his teeth. 

Ordinarily he's a welcome compan- 
ion. "Minds his own business," says 
Muni, "yet gives you the sense you're 
with a friend." Now and then thi 
a moment of strain when, in the excess 
of his abandon, Simon threatens to en- 
tangle with the wheels of the occasional 
car passing that way, or to start up a 
hare in the underbrush. 

So, absorbed in some problem, Muni 
may decide to leave him at home. On 
such occasions he opens his closet door 
soundlessly, tiptoes downstairs and 
whispers to his wife, "Ich geh' spa- 

"Simon doesn't understand German," 
sighs Mrs. Muni. "Sometimes I think 
I'll have to teach it to him before he 
starts picketing the place — " 

XCEPT for an occasional game of 
Ping-pong and swimming in summer, 
walking is his only exercise. Every now 
and then, burning with good intentions, 
he'll start on a course of ten-minute 
morning drills and keep it up for two 
or three days. When he gets around to 
it, he plans to rig up a little gymnasium 
that will be a standing reproach if he 
doesn't use it. 

The evenings are given to music and 
books. If a passion for symphony con- 
certs makes him a high-brow, then he's 
a high-brow. If reveling in Fred Allen 
and Charlie McCarthy makes him a 
low-brow, then he's a low-brow, too. 
Unless a book relating to his current 
role clamors for attention, he'll choose 

history or biography or, less often, real- 
istic fiction. He mourns the opportuni- 
ties he missed as a youngster and con- 
siders his literary background negligi- 
ble. His standards, however, are 

For instance, he wants time to read 
Shakespeare. Which doesn't mean that 
he hasn't read Shakespeare as the av- 
erage man reads it, if at all. 

But to be stirred by the beauty of 
the poetry or lulled by its music doesn't 
satisfy Muni. 

"I'd like first to find out all I can 
about the man. Then I'd like to go 
through the preliminary studies, as a 
scholar does. Otherwise you miss the 
full value and significance of the poetry. 
I like to read a book over and over, till 
I feel I understand what was in the 
mind of the man who wrote it." 

This he tells you with some hesita- 
tion, lest again he be branded high- 
brow, "that inane word." 

The Munis find it hard to tear them- 
selves from their home. Theoretically, 
they go to town for dinner on the cook's 
day out. More often than not, as the 
time for departure draws near, Muni 
gets a wistful look in his eye. 

"O.K." says Bella. "We'll raid the 

They came out to the tree-shaded 
court that lies between house and road, 
to see us off. Simon came, too. Sud- 
denly he darted into a shrub, returning 
with a bird that he laid at Muni's feet. 
One look at her husband's stricken face 
and Bella knelt swiftly. 

"See, he's not hurt. Muni. Simon 
wouldn't hurt him. He's only fright- 
ened. He must have fallen out of his 

The bird fluttered on her palm, 
peeped once and flew away. 

Muni's hand dropped to the dog's 
head and he lifted his face, abashed 
but radiant. The sun had come out. 

Close Ups and Long Shots 

(Continued from page 13) 

•■*■«■■ "" «aWt« "f ll.r ".kin-ommln" npplir.l lo Use -kin Im.r.I upon 

' "" ' "•'-'•" It., -ki.. ..r ,.,.i,....|. f..l|,,v.i.. w : ,„.,, |,|,„ ri ,,„ r 

Tun. In on "THOSI WE IOVI," Pondi Program, Monday!, 8:30 P.M., N.Y. Tim., N. B. C. 

CoprrliM, 1V39, f'yud'. Extract Cumpur 

white broadcloth or in gay flannels cut 
on the lines of a cowboy's shirt . . . 
both sexes hike about in jodhpurs shoes 
. . . the amusing part of all this severe 
tailoring with its emphasis on wide 
shoulders and narrow hips is that it only 
succeeds in making the girls look more 
feminine and the men more male . . . 
which was probably the big idea the 
Hollywood girls had in mind all the time 
. . . they are smart that way . . . 
another thing that they are smart about 
is the realization that while a man never 
understands why a simple dress should 
be so expensive as it is, he is always 
appreciative of the cost of good tailor- 
ing . . . maybe the Hollywood girls 
don't always know how to keep their 
men, but any of us can take lessons 
from them on how to get them. . . . 

Carole Lombard hasn't re-signed 

with Paramount . . . she has a one-pic- 
ture-a-year deal with Selznick Interna- 
tional with whom she has made her big- 
gest successes . . . Dick Powell and 

Joan Blondell have got their release 
from Warners ... it will be interesting 
to see how these three go it on their 
own . . . Cary Grant, who tried the 
same experiment, and Ronald Colman 
have done magnificently at it . . 
Freddie March hasn't done so well . . 
Carole has a percentage arrangement 
with RKO to make "Memory of Love" 
which Claudette Colbert turned down 
. . . that is, Carole will take a shade less 
than her usual salary for the straight 
shooting of the picture and then a per- 
centage of the profits ... it is interest- 
ing to see actors as business people . . . I 
I don't see why they shouldn't do asj 
well at it as many producers ... as] 
well as Sam Goldwyn, for instance, of] 
whom it was said when he signed! 
Jimmy Roosevelt as vice-president ofl 
his company that so far this year he had J 
had three vice-presidents and one pic- 1 
ture. . . . 

Our Thought for the Month Dept.: i\ 
Hedy Lamarr will go very far, but Mi-n 
liza Korjus isn't so gorjus. 


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The Bernarr Macfadden Foundation School for boys and girls from three to eleven, at Briarcliff 
Manor, New York. Complete information furnished upon request. 



Second Chance 

(Continued from page 22) 

to let bygones be bargains. You once 
said you'd never give me a job . . ." 
He wouldn't even let me finish. 

"And I meant it!"' he says firmly. 
"Once a troublemaker, always a trou- 
blemaker. We've got enough sponta- 
neous combustion around here without 
buying dynamite!'' 

"But all that was years ago,"' I says, 
"and, Ben, I'm going to be frank. I 
need the money — badly!" 

"I'm sorry it's that bad!"' he said. "If 
a fifty. . . ." 

"Hold it!" I says. "I'm not after char- 
ity, thanks just the same." Benny 
shrugged and put his wallet away. 

"Marie, I'm going to speak frankly," 
he says. "It's tough to be washed up, 
but take my advice and admit it. You 
haven't got a chance." 

"Why Benny Rossman, you old fool!" 
I says indignantly. "I wouldn't dream 
of trying a comeback! I've had my day 
and it was an extra special fine one. 
But I've got a granddaughter. Even 
you can't be mean enough to hold what 
I done against her? Take a look at her 
anyways!" But Benny got up on those 
shoes of Al's which he was wearing so 
badly and walked me firmly towards 
the door. 

"Sorry," he says, "but no jobs around 
here for any of your family. I'd be glad 
to send you and the kid home to where 
you came from, but nothing on earth 
would persuade me to have either of 
you on this lot!" 

Well, I would never have expected 
even Benny to believe in